List of Characters from Untruths of Time and Sparrow Hawk and Lighting
Solar Exalted - Chosen of the Sun(Selected from the most heroic of mortals who attempted the impossible)
Dawn Caste (The Warriors and Generals of the Unconquered Sun) - Sparrow Hawk (Airship Captain)
Twilight Caste (The Engineers and Sorcerers of the Unconquered Sun)- Ivory Peleps (Child Dynast from the Blessed Isle)
Eclipse Caste (The Diplomats of the Unconquered Sun) - Heron Jade Eyes (Beautiful gambler and gunslinger from the south)
Lunar Exalted - Chosen of the Moon (Selected from the Survivors of Creation)
Full Moon Caste (Ferocious warriors against the enemies of Creation) - Lightning (Claw Strider spirit animal, lightning ballistae of Moonsilver on her forearms)
Full Moon Caste - Redigost (Yeddim spirit animal, hates Sparrow)
Sidereal Exalted - Chosen of the 5 Maidens, chosen from mortals destined to Exalt, from fates in the Loom, chosen before the time of the Primordial War)
Chosen of Secrets (Jupiter's Exalted, they watch over things hidden or guarded) - Dreaming Blue (Using the Immaculate Faith to her ends)
Terrestrial Exalted - (Their bloodlines carry the elemental powers of the five dragons, not as powerful, but able to work together to combine their powers)
Water Caste (Flexible thinkers and problem solvers) - Ragara Anzar (Servant of the Immaculate Order, sought out the Golden Watch that Ivory has)(Ragaras are bankers in the Realm)
Air Caste (Dreamers and Schemers, researchers) Abbess Cloud Hands (Abbess at Greyfalls, joined Anzar in a Wyld Hunt that sought the destruction of Heron and Ivory)
Earth Caste (Staunch supporters of their society) Mnemon Grace (Joined Cloud Hands Wyld Hunt, her servant was killed by Heron and Grace hates him for it) (Mnemons are strategists and plotters)
Fire Caste (Driving forces of their society, living their lives as a series of exclamation points) Kihoshi Cathak (A young man seeking his fame and fortune, lost his arm in a fight with Ivory's tiger Hu) (The Cathaks are known to be Pious and Disciplined, not so much with Kihoshi)
Abyssal Exalted - (Servants of the Dead Gods of the Underworld, mortals who at the moment of death chose life as a servant of those gods)
Midnight Caste (The Preachers of the Dead) Faded Maiden of the Tomb (dresses as a Sijanese funeral priestess, completed devoted to the Walker in Darkness)
Daybreak Caste (The mad inventors and sadistic surgeons of the Dead) Truth Found in Pain of Fire (covered in terrible burn scars, a servant of the Walker in Darkness)
Day Caste (The Spies and assassins of the Dead) Nihilistic Courtesan (An Elegant Gothic Lolita with a bow, servant of the Neverborn more than her master the Walker in Darkness)
Cold Rain, Abyssal in service of the Mask of Winters. Detailed in the story 'Sparrow Hawk and Lightning'.
To Stand Once More In The Sun
Updated June 2018
by Shawn Hagen
Zero Chapter: The Seekers
Shattered and broken slabs of rock were thrust up on one side of the fallen mountain, forming a nearly impenetrable wall of debris and stone. And then behind it was a vast swath of land, ploughed smooth by Metagalpa's earlier passage, littered with enormous boulders; pieces of the mountain that had cascaded from its slopes.
It was, with little doubt, an impressive site. The flying mountain now rested once more upon the face of Creation, and in its fall it had wrought great destruction.
When she had first stared at it, Cloud Hands had not been sure what to think. Even with Grace's warning of the earth's cry of pain, the scope of the devastation was difficult to encompass.
Surely, she had thought when she first saw it; the Anathema are creatures of pure destruction.
It had been two days since the ground had shaken. It had taken her wounded group of Terrestrials a day to cover the distance to the mountain and another to climb up the mountain's broken flanks.
And then she had found out that agents from Greyfalls were already there, subordinates and representatives of General Cathak Kitono. It had been galling, in a way, and she felt that the Immaculate Faith should have been better represented. If the people of Metagalpa were to be brought into the faith, then these first days would be the most important.
She had not the time to be concerned with such thing, unfortunately, for her hunt for the Anathema was far more critical. And though the presence of the general's men bothered her, that did not stop her from making use of the military personnel; to get resupplied and to get an introduction to the leaders of Metagalpa, the hawk riders.
"I seek Anathema," she said simply, and without preamble, as soon as she met their leader, an old mortal named Torvin.
He nodded. "I think," he said, and his voice sounded tired, "that there was such among the dead that attacked us."
She frowned as she stared at the old man, sensing no duplicity on his part. "I see. I seek a man, said to be as beautiful as any comely woman, and a small girl."
"I did not see them amongst the dead that attacked us," he told her.
He was not lying to her, Cloud Hands thought, and yet, she thought he was hiding something. "Are you certain?" She pushed, lending to her words the subtle current of Essence.
Torvin stiffened as if struck, and then said, slowly, as if picking his words with great care, "I am certain."
Cloud Hands angry outburst died stillborn as another in the room shouted out, "Enough!"
The woman who had yelled out was of average height and had the thin build of a hawk rider. In her anger, the touch of the dragons was evident, for her skin flushed a deep red, and her eyes seemed to glow.
"Enough," the woman said again, striding forward.
"Silver Fingers," Torvin said, perhaps in an attempt to stop her from speaking, but his voice sounded tired, and it was possible Silver Fingers did not hear it.
"The two Anathema were here. The beautiful man and the child. You can thank them for the fact that Greyfalls is not buried beneath this mountain, and we can thank them for the death of riders and hawks that saved your city."
Torvin sighed and slumped in his chair. It was as if he had suddenly aged several years.
Cloud Hands said nothing for a moment. Then, "I don't understand. You're angry that they led you in a fight against the dead? Led you to victory?"
"It was a fight we could not win. If not for them we would have evacuated," Silver Fingers told her.
And that was it, Cloud Hands thought. They cared not for Greyfalls or its people but counted on both for their future safety. The old man Torvin did not seek to hide the fact they had fought alongside Anathema, but that the people of Metagalpa would have let Greyfalls be destroyed but for those Anathema.
"Where are they?" Cloud Hands asked Silver Fingers.
"They rode west, on a horse that ran faster than any hawk could fly."
She should stay and minister to these people. Who knew what the Anathemas' presence had done to them? But she could not stay, for she needed to hunt the man. Needed it with a desperation she still did not fully understand. It was what the Anathema's presence had done to her.
She said nothing to the hawk riders, just turned and walked away. She had no time for words now.
"What are you going to do?" Silver Finger's asked; her tone of voice held a hint of worry.
"To hunt the Anathema and destroy them," she said. For a moment she thought to add something else, some suitable quote from the Immaculate Doctrine, to shame them for their actions, but she was not in the right frame of mind.
Ahead of her, waiting, were the others: Anzar, anxious for reasons of his own; Grace, whose desire for revenge would drive her; Kohishi, severely wounded but still looking for opportunity. The core of her Wyld Hunt. Hardly enough, but what she had.
"We head west," she said, "as fast as we can."
Perched on the eaves, above the door from which Cloud Hands had exited, was a crow. It watched as the group of Dragon-Bloods left and then spread its wings and flew off. Wingbeats sent the black bird up the steep sides of the mountain for some distance, and then it soared away from the rock face, going into a broad turn, sweeping away from Metagalpa.
After a time the bird folded its wings and dropped rapidly as it dove towards the ground far below. Not far above the surface, it spread its wings again, breaking its descent, and then flapping them hard to come to a gentle landing amongst the broken rock and wiry bushes.
Bird shifted into long-limbed cat and cat leapt away, its brown, grey speckled fur making it almost invisible amongst the rock and vegetation. The cat followed a game trail, moving fast, startling small prey animals. The forest grew thicker around it, and soon the light was thick with the stain of the canopy.
Then the forest opened up onto the banks of a shallow river, and the light of the early afternoon was bright and blinding.
Cat shifted, becoming a woman. Tall, dark skin and shoulder length dark hair, dressed in trousers bloused above knee-high boots, wearing a white blouse and a burgundy leather waist cincher; slung across her back was a daiklaive, the sword wrapped in a sheath of black leather.
On the stony bank of the river was a small camp; a simple lean-to and a small fire. In contrast to the almost primitive camp was the airship, resting partway on the river bank and partway within the river. It was of first age construction, blue jade alloy, shot through with Orichalcum and Moonsilver.
Seated upon the airship's port wing was a young woman, short and thin, with mousy brown hair and large brown eyes. She wore a pair of loose black pants, was barefooted, through her boots and socks rested on the wing beside her. Over a thin shirt of cotton, she wore a leather jacket. She was smoking a marijuana cigarette and by her side an open bag full of chocolate.
Lightning splashed into the shin-deep water, over to where Sparrow sat. She took the cigarette from her, brought it to her lips, and took a long drag.
"Oh, please, share," Sparrow said with a touch of annoyance in her tone. She was tense and close to shifting away. As if Lightning's presence was somehow unwelcome.
Lightning smiled and blew a cloud of sweet smelling smoke out through her nostrils. She handed the cigarette back to Sparrow as she plucked a piece of the dark chocolate from the bag. "What's yours is mine, what's mine is yours," Lighting said, her voice like a purr, warm and mellow, and then she popped the chocolate into her mouth.
"Which you always say when I have something you want."
Still smiling Lightning said, "Found out what happened."
Sparrow leaned forward, eagerness washing away earlier awkwardness. "What happened? Tell me."
"Of course, my information is yours."
"Oh, shut up," Sparrow said and passed the cigarette back to Lightning.
Lightning took a draw on the cigarette, then her demeanour grew more serious. "I found out what happened, or more to the point I found out who happened."
Sparrow tilted her head to the side, curious.
"There were a pair of Solars there. One of them, a child apparently, blew the top off of the mountain."
Sparrow said nothing for several seconds, and then asked, "Why?"
"Have to admit I was a little confused about that myself at first, and I think I am still not entirely sure about it." She shifted about and took a seat a seat beside Sparrow. "It seems," she handed the cigarette back to Sparrow, "the dead were attacking, trying to pull the mountain so they could drop it on Greyfalls."
"That's not true. Is it?"
"It seems to be what the people on that mountain believe."
"Still…"
"Maybe they are lying very well, or they are suffering from some sort of mass delusion. Maybe any other possibility you could think of, but I still feel what the Metagalpans said is the truth."
Sparrow shook her head. "I just find it hard to believe."
"Let's take it as a given. The man, lovely by all accounts, led them, the hawk riders, into battle against the dead. The child was responsible for blowing up the top of the mountain. Why they chose to get involved, I could not tell you. Maybe they just don't like the dead."
"Sensible enough."
"So, the reason that the mountain fell was that a Solar sorceress blew it from the sky."
"And the dead," Sparrow said. "Let's not blame it all on the Solar."
Lightning rolled her eyes. "Either way, it was not some fluke of nature. We don't have to put our plans on hold. We can go and find our own flying mountain."
"I suppose. But…"
"But?"
"I'm curious about the man and the girl." Sparrow shook her head.
"I'm curious myself."
Sparrow ran her hands through her hair. "We don't have time."
"Who says?" Lightning put the cigarette into her mouth and took a long draw on it.
"We have all the work to do at Ice Tree."
Lightning blew the smoke from her pursed lips and then said, "It can wait."
"But…"
"Trust me on this Sparrow. We have a very, very long life in front of us. We have time."
Sparrow looked doubtful, but asked, "Do we know where they are?"
"The headed west. Fast."
Quiet for several seconds Sparrow bit her lower lip, then said, "I want to follow after them." She looked nervous and hopeful at the same time.
Lightning nodded. "So do I."
That the dead could not die meant that there were punishments and tortures that they could undergo that would be impossible for the living. That did not mean that the dead who practised torture did not ply their trade on the living. It was just they were limited when it came to such situations.
Not that the living could appreciate it.
Faded Maiden had been given over to the mercies of such a torturer, an ancient Nephwrack who hated all the Abyssals, for the Abyssals had taken its place of pride as a Death Lord's foremost servant. First, it had healed her, after she had been brought, broken, from the ruins of mount Metagalpa. And once healed, it had made Faded Maiden scream, scream until she had coughed blood from a throat worn raw. As Walker In Darkness had ordered, the Nephwrack tortured her, punishment for her failure. Punished her, but did not kill her.
It was what Faded Maiden hung on to, that her lord still saw a use for her, that he did not want her dead. When the Nephwrack finally finished with her, it was that thought that had kept her mind from breaking.
The Nephwrack, its work done, had his servants, jade effigies, toss her from his workshop.
She lay on the damp, dead ground of the Shadowland, naked, shivering with exhaustion. Around her was the small village, Grove of Dead Trees. It was more than a hundred miles east of Walker's Realm, and where many of her lord's living servants made their home and headquarters. None of those on the narrow streets dared approach her, to offer help. They feared the Nephwrack was watching, Faded Maiden thought.
It angered her that they had such fear of the creature.
Slowly she forced herself up, her arms trembling with the effort to raise her torso from the ground. Teeth beginning to chatter she shifted her legs under her, until she was on her hands and knees, panting with the effort of it.
Next, she would have tried to get onto her feet, but rescue in the form of two zombies arrived. Well made constructs of flesh and bone, smelling of funerary spices and other preservatives. They moved with a smooth gait, so different from many of their mindless, rotting compatriots. They were works of art, and she knew who had sent them.
One draped a warm cloak of fur lined black velvet across her back while the other gently took her upper arm and aided her to her feet. Together they supported her as they helped her across the Shadowland, to a tower of dark stone that sat in a small grove of black fir trees. Her bare feet dragged along the smooth path as they helped her, carried her, up to the tower's tall doors. She was almost able to navigate the stone steps, only tripping once, and the zombies' unflagging support kept her from falling.
The interior of the tower was dark and cool, rich with the smells of spices and chemicals, and quiet as a tomb. She felt much better almost immediately.
The zombies placed her on a small couch, and one draped a heavy quilt across her legs. Both of the dead then moved a few steps back and stood, quiet and unmoving. Slowly she slid her legs beneath her, pulled the quilt up and wrapped it tightly around about herself.
For a time she sat there, breathing slowly, letting the energy of the tower, a manse, wash over her, fill her. She felt stronger with each passing moment.
She heard the sound of a door opening and turned to look towards the noise. From a corridor came Truth Found in Pain of Fire, moving precisely as he crossed the room and moved towards her.
"Thank you for sending your servants," she said with a voice still raw from the screaming.
Truth nodded. "Yes." He paused. "You're welcome."
She shifted under the quilt and asked the question that had been plaguing her for days. "Has Lord Walker sent word for me?"
Truth said nothing for a moment, then said, "Only that he was disappointed in your performance."
Faded Maiden winced, closed her eyes tight, and took deep breaths. Finally, she said, "Of course. I understand."
"He did not say anything else," Truth said, "just that."
"No orders?"
"No."
Faded Maiden reached up and ran her fingers across her dry lips. "I'll have to prove myself," she said softly. She stood, only trembling slightly, letting the quilt fall to her feet. "Where's Courtesan?" she asked.
"Ah," Truth said.
"Is she being tortured?" Faded Maiden smiled.
"I don't think so."
"Where is she then?"
"I do not know. She has disappeared."
"She's gone renegade?"
"I do not know," Truth told her.
Faded Maiden pursed her lips and said nothing for several seconds. "She disappeared after our failure at Metagalpa. Lord Walker let her?"
Truth looked uncomfortable. "I'm not sure if he let her," he said, stressing the word 'he' ever so slightly.
And that explained it. The only ones who could command her lord; The dead gods of the underworld. The Neverborn.
She trembled and pulled the cloak around her tighter.
Their dreaming whispers sometimes haunted Faded Maiden, a soft murmuring she could usually ignore.
Perhaps they were not so soft for Courtesan.
She found herself gritting her teeth, her hands clenched tightly.
"Lord Walker had no orders for me?" she asked, her words clipped.
"That is true," Truth said.
"He said nothing about Courtesan?"
"No."
"Very well," Faded Maiden said, and unclenched her hands. "The last orders he gave me were to watch Courtesan, to hunt her and kill her if she went renegade. I'll need armour and weapons."
"I will give you what I can."
She focused her attention on him. "What you can?"
"I'm afraid…"
"Lord Walker has denied me Soulsteel," she said, interrupting him.
"Yes."
"Give me jade then if you can."
He nodded. "I can do so."
The room was dark, the glass in the small windows too grimy to let much light in. The acrid scent of smoke from a small stove with a bad draw had permeated everything as if the cramped room was filled with burnt furniture.
At a small table, covered in empty glasses and bottles, Jenka Ghost Hand sat. He looked tired, haggard, his usually neat hair and beard were un-groomed, and threads of silver had worked their way into his once dark hair. His once bright blue eyes were clouded by drink, and rimmed with red from the smoke. His face was bruised, and still puffy, from a beating he had taken not that many days before.
The waitress came into the room, placed a fresh bottle of wine on the table in front of him. She took a seat across from him.
Jenka pulled the cork from the bottle, put his lips around the neck, and then took a long pull. A stream of red escaped the side of his mouth, trailed down through his beard, and dripped onto an already stained shirt collar. He put the bottle down and said, "I don't want any company." His words were clear, especially for a man who had drunk as much as he had.
"That's okay," the waitress said, "I'm not here to offer company Jenka Ghost Hand. I want answers about the watch."
Jenka jerked in his chair, knocking some glasses from the table. He looked at the woman he had thought was the waitress. She was young enough to be one of the Inn's waitresses, but far too well dressed, with a formal kimono that looked as if it should grace an Emperor's court. Her short hair was dark, she had light brown eyes, and was attractive, through not beautiful.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"My name is Dreaming Blue, and I tell you that with the certainty that you will tell no one else."
"What?" Jenka demanded, and started to stand, but then his legs buckled and he dropped back into his seat. "What did you do?" he asked, voice trembling.
"Just some drugs, some in each of the bottles over the last few hours," she told him, pushing glasses and bottles aside as she leaned forward. "Go to sleep Jenka Ghost Hand."
Jenka's eyelids fluttered, then closed, and he slumped forward.
Dreaming smiled, and then said, "You are asleep Jenka Ghost Hand, a deep sleep, a safe sleep, dreaming and nothing can hurt you. Do you understand?"
"I, I understand…" he muttered softly.
"You had a watch. You lost it in a game to a man named Heron Jade Eyes. He came to see you, didn't he, to ask about the watch?"
"Yes. He beat me up, forced me to tell him. Terrifying sun demon."
"What did you tell him? No need to go into details, just give me the salient points. What you know is important."
"I was sent to the ruins of Unoia by the Mask of Winters, I found the watch there. Lookshy bought most of what I found but was not interested in the watch. The Mask of Winters' agent said nothing about finding the watch," he said softly.
"The Mask of Winters sent you to many such ruins?"
"Yes. He gave me a hand that eats ghosts, so I'm safe."
"And usually you sold what you found to Lookshy?"
"Yes."
Dreaming Blue nodded. "I thank you Jenka Ghost Hand. You have told me all I need to know. Now drift into a deep sleep and dream of what you like best."
Dreaming Blue got to her feet and moved to stand beside the man, geta crushing broken glass, listening, as the minutes passed until his breathing stopped. She pulled the glove off of his left hand, looked at the strange thing that had been grafted to his palm, then put the glove back on.
"Speed quickly to Lethe," she told the man, "the drugs will ensure it. Best your ghost does not linger to answer any questions. And I apologise for the desecration." She shifted his body to the side, pulled his arm across the table, knocking more bottles and glasses to the floor, and then, with a flourish, summoned a sword as long as she was tall into her hand. With a quick motion, she severed his lower arm, halfway between wrist and elbow. "This is a little too important to leave behind."
The sword was banished as she released it and she picked up the arm, grasping it around the wrist.
Not looking back she left the room, a trail of blood behind her.
The giant zombie stumbled, falling hard against a tree, snapping it in two. Over ten feet tall, built from many bodies, shaped with necromancy and bound with Soulsteel. Once it had been a machine, designed to cut through stone, to haul up huge loads and then to fight as an engine of war. Now it was nearing the end of its useful service. It was the last of its unit, having taken up its burden when the second last had fallen, as that one had taken the burden from a previously fallen companion.
The burden was a young woman, who looked emaciated, with the pale skin of one not long from the sick bed. She had beautiful blonde hair, which was tangled up with twigs and leaves. Her blue eyes looked large in her starved face. She was dressed in clothing of silk and velvet, with a skirt puffed out by petticoats of yards of lace. The clothing was ripped and stained with travel. Held in the giant zombie's arm, she looked like a doll.
The zombie fell hard to its knees, bone and skin cracking.
The woman, Nihilistic Courtesan, rolled from the giant's hold, landing lightly a few steps away as the giant fell forward, smashing its face on the ground. It tried to get up, but the bones within the shell of flesh did not seem to move correctly, and each movement was followed by a grinding sound.
"Stop," Courtesan told it, and the simple creature did so. She turned away from it and continued on, walking through the pine forest, making her way along an old trail covered in a thick carpet of fallen needles. She did not look back at the zombie that had carried her so fast, and so far.
All of the zombies had fallen similarly, their destruction allowing her to cross a vast distance in a short time.
She still did not think she had caught up with her prey, but she had not fallen too far behind.
The trail was both easy and hard to follow. When Courtesan came across a hoof print, caused by a horse that was running faster than the wind, it was apparent which horse had left it. However, such tracks were spaced a significant distance apart, and it was not easy to find them.
Near a stream, she found the remains of a campsite. She knelt down by a cold fire, running her delicate, dirty fingers through the cold ashes. She picked up a partially burnt twig on the edge of the ashes and brought it to her nose. It was faint, but the sharp, sulphury smell of firedust was unmistakable.
Doubtful anyone else would waste a blast of firedust to start a fire. She had to be on the right track. Still, she would feel so much better if she knew the child was with the man. No reason to assume otherwise, it was evident that they travelled together. The whispers in her head though, they wanted more.
"What track does a child leave? Fallen toys?" She cast about the forest floor. The pine needles were soft, and while each step left a mark, such depressions did not last long. "Soiled clothing?" She kicked through the needles, sending them up in a cloud of pine-scented ground litter. "Damn it!" She yelled. "Leave me alone, let me think!"
She sat down heavily on a fallen log, pushing her skirts down between her knees. "She is with the man," she said between clenched teeth.
After a moment she took a deep breath, relaxing slightly.
She was a good tracker, having been trained in such things to better serve Walker in Darkness, but she was not so skilled as to be able to pick out the subtle clues that might be left behind by a child.
The whispers had quieted and had lost their strident demands, but they were still there, urging her on. She ignored them for a time, closed her eyes, did not quite sleep, but almost. Finally, she stood, pulled some detritus from her hair, then set off, continuing on the path, looking for the hoof print that would let her know she was still on the right track.
Once it had been said that the skies had been filled with the magical vehicles of an earlier age before the demons had nearly destroyed the world. The Red-Claw was one such class of craft, sweeping wings on either side of the leaf-shaped hull, an airship nearly forty feet long. In the age gone thousands of such vehicles had served as fast scouting craft.
Tolsay Mnemon did not know if that was true or not. He just knew there were certainly not that many of the aircraft in the skies now. The Red-Claw he flew was perhaps the only one left, for he had never seen another. He called it 'Heart Spear' and had found it before he had come into the Empress' service. It was one of the things he considered his.
Of course, without the backing of the Scarlet Empire, he never would have been able to get it fully repaired and keep it maintained. So while he thought of it as wholly his, he was happy enough to use it for missions.
With skill, he held the Heart Spear in a hover, hundreds of feet in the air, while he scanned the ground far away with a pair of far-seeing glasses. It took him a few minutes to find them. Cloud Hands and the Terrestrials she led. They were in poor shape, all things considered. The Anathema indeed must have handed them their asses, he thought.
Now that he had found them, what should he do?
Could be a real jerk, let them walk along for another day or two, and only then sweep down to give them a ride. They might be more grateful that way, maybe ask fewer questions. However, from what he had heard about Abbess Cloud Hands she was not likely to buy the Good Citizen coming along at the right time. And there was no real reason to keep things secret. They wanted the Anathema dead. He was pretty confident that he wanted to make sure one of the Anathema died… perhaps not immediately.
No reason they could not work together.
So, he thought, putting the far-seeing glasses aside, time to go and give his allies for the moment a ride.
Hopefully, they would be grateful.