"Ah…Lieutenant-Enforcer?"
Anur looked up from his most recent attempt to write his mother a letter (going badly) with blatant relief, "Oh thank – ah. Apologies, can I help you?"
Both scouts looked amused, the twin on the left actually smiling and asking sympathetically, "Reports?"
"Worse," Anur shuddered, before hesitating and correcting himself carefully, "Well – not really. I'm able to contact my family, which is more than most here apparently, but still – "
"Oh no, we understand completely!" the other one interrupted, "We're close enough that we can slip in some visits, but it's all under the table and they still expect sagas!"
"Exactly!" Anur grinned, "What am I supposed to write? Half of what I'm doing I can't put on paper, the other half isn't anything particularly useful or interesting, so what's the point?"
"The point," Kir's voice came from behind, drier than the training grounds in midsummer, "Is to inform them you are alive, idiot. Did you two have a purpose in mind or shall I leave you to debating letter writing?"
"Actually, sir, letter writing is what brought us here, funnily enough," the one on the right (Anur was at least seventy percent sure he was Galen), "You see, Galen here," (blast!) "received a letter from Mal, ah – Malak Greves, he was an ensign – "
"Yes, he was often in your scouting squad and came with on the supply run," Kir nodded, hands slipping into his pockets.
"The archer, right?" Anur asked, receiving a nod from all three of them. The two scouts were clearly surprised Kir had actually remembered this ensign. Anur, on the other hand, didn't doubt that Kir knew the name and face of every soldier that had come through here, along with how they had died or if they had transferred. By the recitations of the dead that Kir could pull from memory, recognizing, if not truly knowing, his people was something he took seriously.
"Right, so we'd agreed to look each other up when we got out, maybe write a bit, and he got one through and it's – well, it's odd sir. We didn't really want to bother you with it but Mal's not one to panic lightly and, well… he says his village's spring is running foul now and people are drowning on dry land," Balin finally got the actual issue out, apparently deciding that getting it out there quickly was better than delaying.
Anur was startled at the sudden wave of heat, immediately getting to his feet and looking at the now ferociously focused Kir, twin scouts obviously alarmed at his reaction. "What does that portion of his letter say," Anur asked quickly, "Exactly."
"Ah… that bit's useless, just for – here it is," Galen cleared his throat and began reading.
"…something odd is going on, seems witchy, of all things. Spring run for generations, suddenly gone foul and three dead spitting up water while they were walking on the banks, clothes dry. We can't figure it, sent word to Sunhame but they're far away and… they're far away. So thought that we had a sort of expert in the 62nd and if he could give some advice for our own priest that'd be much appreciated."
Anur was about to ask for details when Kir suddenly snatched the letter from Galen's hand and strode away, calling over his shoulder, "We leave immediately!"
"Leave to where?" Anur sighed, turning to the twins and grabbing them by the collars as they turned to leave, "Oh no, first off, where's this Malak Greves live and how far away is it? Secondly, I have no idea if that 'we' meant me and him, or if it meant all three of us so just in case we're all three getting ready to go, yes?"
They sighed as one, chorusing a dispirited, "Yes Lieutenant-Enforcer."
Well, that was much easier than he anticipated, and this promised to put the letter on the back-burner entirely for a while! Excellent timing.
***===***pagebreak***===***
"Wait – are you saying that their water is being haunted?" Anur asked a while later, internally lamenting the fact that he wasn't still sitting on the steps of the chapel, struggling to write a letter to his mother.
They had traveled east at a ground-eating pace before finally stopping for the evening at a traveler's chapel. From his reading of the maps, they would arrive at Greves' town early the next day. This 'they' including Second Scouts Balin and Galen Sescha. The twins had not been particularly pleased to find out that Kir's 'we' had, in fact, included them, but they hadn't been able or even willing to argue with the priest and the sergeant.
"Think about it," Kir had said shortly when he arrived at the ready and waiting horses, throwing his saddlebags over Riva's back and tying them on, "He sends a letter and a Firestarter comes riding in with no explanation? They'll assume he has one on call and he'll be ostracized. Even claiming that a mediator was involved, with no proof it won't matter. The only way is if we bring you two along as an introduction, you claim to have been concerned and brought the matter to my attention, and I then decided an immediate response was necessary."
The sergeant's explanation was similar in spirit, if decidedly short on explanation and full on orders to work with Kir to resolve the situation.
None of which had actually explained what was going on to cause such an immediate and violent response.
"Possibly," Kir frowned, swirling his tea idly. The four of them were sitting on the floor of the sacristy/residence area, bedrolls already set up, "Records are unclear as to details."
"Details of what?" Anur asked, struggling to hold back his exasperation.
Kir finally seemed to snap out of the bizarre focus state he'd been in since the letter had been presented, and he blinked at the three of them before sighing, "I haven't explained, have I?"
"No," Anur sighed in relief, "You haven't."
"Apologies," Kir murmured, pausing briefly before continuing, "Blood-magic poisons the land. Essentially… Hardorn is dying. Blood magic drains life, drains everything, and when energy from that sort of spellwork is disbursed, it poisons things. Formerly good springs turning foul are sign enough of something potentially malicious at work, though there are reasoned explanations most of the time, it is always worthy of investigation. After all, people need that water – if it is fouled for good, they often need to relocate, and that is expensive."
Kir visibly shook himself, "Sorry, distracted. Anyway, the water alone would be something his own priest should deal with, but combined with drowning on dry land – entirely human evil is possible, but it is more likely that there is something wrong of a less material nature."
"So since Ancar uses blood-magic, you've been keeping an eye out for this sort of thing," Anur said thoughtfully.
Kir nodded shortly, "Precisely. I thought it would be more likely for it to extend into Valdemar as his own ire is targeted northwards, but with those vrondi actually serving as a defense, I'm not certain that there isn't some protection offered from that sort of poisoning."
"Which means that poison's coming into Karse," Galen said grimly, "This is only the beginning then, isn't it?"
"In the worst case, yes," Kir said bluntly, "And if that is the case, then I will have to present these findings to Sunhame directly and force action through, because if the land is poisoned it will take a true miracle to have it recover in anything less than a few generations. So long as it is the water, it is possible to purify it, but land is much harder to change either direction."
:And the drownings on dry land? That doesn't sound like an aspect of blood magic poisoning,: Aelius asked.
Anur relayed the question to Kir, who grimaced and demanded, "Think! To die under a blood-mage, controlled or given to them as a sacrifice – would you not be bitter? Be angry? Blood magic is notorious for leaving angry spirits and echoes behind, if not worse. Planar creatures – like those vrondi – are called by energy, the sorts pulled in by blood magic? Nothing benign, that is for certain. They are following the poison, I wouldn't be surprised if the headwaters of this stream are well within the Hardornen border, that would explain much. If that is the case, I'm honestly surprised it has taken this long to see problems."
"…So what can we do?" Galen asked quietly, "You said something about purifying the water – would that actually… fix it? Or just delay things?"
"It depends on degree," Kir sighed, "Degree and whether or not Ancar dies anytime soon and the blood-magic use all across Hardorn ends. I'm going to have to inspect this stream personally, but since these drownings apparently occurred while they were walking the banks, I don't know that I want any of you coming with me."
:I can deal with haunts coming after you, Chosen,: Aelius answered his unasked question immediately, :At least long enough you can tell Kir and he deals with them.:
"Aelius can delay them coming after me long enough for you to deal with it," Anur relayed, "So you're not going anywhere without backup. What can you do against them, is it just your being a priest?"
"No," Kir denied, before hesitating and shrugging, "Partially. One of the easiest ways to ward of spiritual entities is flames, they are considered purifying for a reason. And flames I think I can manage," he ended dryly.
"We are more than happy to skip that particular side trip," Balin agreed, "We can go into town and find Mal, get rooms set up? Two, paired off work?"
"Perfectly, we'll deal with the horses ourselves of course," Kir replied, "Remind me to give you the money tomorrow."
"Of course sir. We'll split tomorrow then? You two head off from the road to follow the river, we go straight into town?"
"Seems most efficient," Anur shrugged, cutting a glance to Kir before continuing bluntly, "You'll probably need the extra time to warn them a Firestarter and Enforcer are coming into town. I don't think that's something to leave as a surprise."
"Mal would appreciate it, but you're right, it wouldn't be something to spring on them," Galen agreed. "We can do that."
As they finally split and settled in their bedrolls for a night's sleep, Anur asked Aelius, :Ghosts and magic monsters. Remind me again why I thought this was a good idea?:
:If you weren't here, Kir would be going off by himself.:
:Right. Thanks Aelius.:
:Anytime, Chosen.:
***===***pagebreak***===***
Hooves pounded up the road and unfamiliar tones drifted through the open windows of the inn, but Malak Greves didn't twitch from his position over the largest table they had, map of the area stretched out across it with a depressing amount of pebbles weighing it down.
"Mal!" hearing his name, he finally looked up and his jaw dropped, "Balin? Galen?" he asked incredulously, straightening and pulling the two twins into a back-slapping embrace, "What are you two – you got my letter?"
"We did," Balin, given away by a small scar over his right eyebrow, nodded, eyeing him worriedly, "Sorry it took so long for us to come."
"Don't apologize! It's a miracle you got leave to come at all!" Malak refuted, sending silent thanks to Vkandis that Captain Ulrich was apparently a one in a million captain he'd never thought to find. "I don't know how much help you'll be, but any help is welcome," he continued, waving them to the table, "Myself, Father Hanlik and Birni are the ones with arms experience here and it hasn't amounted to much."
"Has anything else happened? Fouled water and three deaths were what you wrote," Balin asked, Galen examining the map and murmuring questions about the pebbles to Birni, who'd followed them in. The headman had very quickly taken a personal interest in the problem, even when it was just odd water – by the time their first death had happened, everyone knew there was a major problem.
"Only three deaths, thankfully, but… something else has started. People, they've been falling into a strange waking sleep. Three so far, two children and one… one woman," Malak struggled with the last, closing his eyes briefly against the memory.
A hand rested on his arm, "You know her?"
Mal nodded shortly, "My wife."
The twins hissed in sympathy, Malak accepting it with a nod before opening his eyes and returning his attention to the present and figuring out how to kill whatever the hells this thing was. "Any warning symptoms?" Balin asked, moving to stand next to his twin at the table.
"For the deaths? Nothing," Mal grimaced, "For the waking sleep? General tiredness, lethargy, not wanting to eat much, then full collapse within a day. They're still – they're breathing, they eat what's put to their lips, swallow any liquid in their mouths, but they're not… there."
"Eyes are open, nobody's home," Galen said in a low sing-song, lips tightening, "Shit."
"You know what this is?" Birni pounced on that reaction like a starving mouser.
"Not personally but – well," Balin smiled slightly, "Sounded witchy, to be frank. And with Hardorn being what it is, we brought the resident expert."
"You mean -?" Malak began, almost feeling hope take hold again. The twins looked over and nodded, smiles on their faces, "He's off investigating now, wanted to see the creek without prior bias or some-such. We came in to find you and give a heads up to expect four to stay until this gets resolved."
Mal blinked for a moment, then he frowned, asking, "Four? Who else is – Lieutenant Korisho?"
"No, a new guy," Galen grinned, "Though you've met him before."
"A resident expert on witchy-ness?" Birni finally interjected, voice dry, "Why am I not liking the sound of that?"
Malak quickly turned to his headman, insisting, "No, Birni – this is good news! With his help we might actually beat this thing!"
"And 'thing' is the proper word," a welcome familiar voice said from the door, Father Kir walking in with impeccable timing, another familiar face following in his wake wearing a disconcertingly wrong uniform.
Malak stared at the Herald turned Enforcer in mute shock, before turning to the nearest twin and slugging them in the arm, "You, old friends, have been holding out on me."
***===***pagebreak***===***
Kir watched the twins take Greves' joking reprimands with good spirits for a few moments; their antics allowed the headman and innmaster to regain his composure from the alarmed flinch he'd suffered at the sight of their uniforms. Old friends from the Sunsguard coming to aid was one thing, bizarre given Sunsguard leave policies for anyone under officer rank, but understandable and even welcomed. Those old friends bringing a Firestarter along?
No longer welcome past what aid they could give.
Having Anur at his back was a blessed comfort here. The 62nd would back him, he was certain, would shelter him from some of the typical backlash of his rank, but it was still relatively recent that they weren't among those flinching away from a sharp glance. Hells, after the Rethwallen army fiasco some yet again eyed him with wariness. With Anur he could get about his duties without excessive worrying about a knife in the back, saving time and energy for more important endeavors.
"The headwaters are here, a league into the Hardornen border – far enough in to be defined as such without being open to debate," Kir said, tapping the point on the map. "The fact that the Son's Springs feed into it here is the only reason you haven't had more problems sooner, once you go past the Springs' junction it becomes much more obvious that the water is poisoning the land."
"Aye, we noticed that," the joint headman-innmaster, who he believed was named Birni, finally spoke, still eyeing the two of them warily but at least willing to speak. "Didn't dare go much past that junction, becomes a little iffy, territory wise, but we noticed – banks used to be green, lush. Now they're all dead, instead of dead in spots like ours are."
"We didn't range further downriver, is it spreading?" Anur asked, Kir tilting his head slightly as he waited for a response, examining the map and internally estimating speed of the water and degree of pollution.
"Next town along the course is just starting to notice dead spots on the banks," Malak replied, directing his answer at both of them, "They've been warned to stay away from the water."
"That would do it," Kir muttered, very grateful he had extensively studied the records of the early Firestarters and the true witches they hunted. He could have gone his whole life happy without ever truly encountering blood magics and the poisons they brought, but at least he knew what they might be up against.
"What is it, sir? Is it actually witchcraft?" Malak asked, an urgent edge to his voice. He had a personal stake in this then, more personal than his town being attacked and his people at risk.
"Of the oldest sort," Kir replied grimly, "Blood magic poisons the land, with Ancar's forces being primarily blood mages and Ancar himself practicing the cursed path, the entirety of Hardorn is succumbing to it. The border zones are probably the worst, with continuous energy seeping off and being drained, but anywhere with extensive blood-magic workings would have this poison. The headwater being well-within Hardorn, there's not even the weak protection of being claimed by others to prevent its poisoning – it's following the water. If you go close to the border you can see that the land itself is going sour as well, but water carries it more swiftly."
"So that explains the bad crops, even the waking sleepers since we had wells from that water – blocked now – but the deaths?"
"Waking sleepers?" Kir asked, eyes narrowing, "That is… different."
"Eyes are open, nobody's home," Balin chanted and Kir immediately recognized it, cursing aloud.
"I am surprised you know that rhyme," he said, before turning to the map and scowling, "Unfortunately, that means we have two problems to deal with. The drownings are caused by haunts, initially I thought they were malicious but with this they may very well just be… misguided. Fantastic."
"Misguided?" Birni spluttered, "Those – they're killing people for walking on the banks!"
"Because there is greater danger in those waters," Kir said grimly, bracing himself on the table, "Lothga, curse it all, it must be them."
"Lothga?" Malak mispronounced, eyes narrowed, "What's that, and what's this rhyme?"
"My grandmother taught it, told it with scary stories," Balin shrugged, "Basically symptoms and monster names. Not much else on them."
"We were taught it as well, in addition to means of dealing with them," Kir replied, "Lothga are nasty – from what I remember, they prey primarily on children. They… drain the soul, essentially. Lock people in nightmare scenarios until they just waste away."
"So are we dealing with one of these things or a – pack?" Anur asked, clearly struggling to find the right word for a hunting group of soul-eating planar creatures.
"With only three victims in… how many days?" Kir asked, Mal replying, "Five. I wrote the letter nine days ago."
"Likely only one then, they can only prey on one person a night," Kir tapped the map with a finger, "Did they approach the water at any point after the deaths started occurring?"
"No – wait. Yes. The first boy, he would go down there to hunt rabbit," Malak frowned, "But he didn't go to the dead-zones, he went further downstream, wouldn't it be safe there?"
"No," Kir said shortly, "Poisoned plants need to first pull on the poisoned water, the water is ill first. Lothga follow water lines – most creatures do, it's a hunting strategy and energies are carried more efficiently in water."
"Shit," Galen mumbled, "And then it jumped to a different person."
"Exactly," Kir scowled, "And yet another. You said the third was a grown woman? How old were the other two?"
"First was eleven, second was nine, his sister. Once we realized it was contagious we kept the children away, but then my wife was hit, she's our herbalist," Greves replied, voice tight, and Kir winced. Lothga preferred children as they weren't as firmly anchored in the world as adults, they were more vulnerable. For Greves' wife to have been taken so quickly, she was probably pregnant.
Considering he hadn't mentioned it, she may not have even realized it yet. Marvelous.
"We moved them into the temple, that was two days ago, no one else has been caught by it yet," Birni inserted.
"Trapped inside the threshold, makes some sense," Kir frowned, "Can't pass in, usually, but if it's carried in then it wouldn't be able to get out – that's good, gives us some control over the situation."
"But how do we get it to let them go? Is it possible?" Malak asked, a desperate edge to his voice.
Kir heard it, but still only reluctantly said, "They have to be killed when they're feeding. Those three are already anchored to it, to get it manifested and feeding again we need to provide it with someone else to latch on to."
"No," Birni said firmly, sharp gesture cutting of Malak's objection, "No Mal. Synia's your wife, I understand. You think I like this any more than you do? But we're not sending someone else in there to risk losing them too, especially not if this thing targets children."
Kir winced, he'd hoped that aspect could be swept under the rug, but if this trap was going to be set up, it needed to be said.
"But Synia's a grown woma – oh Sunlord," Mal froze, apparently realizing what that might mean, and turning to Kir with desperate eyes, "Is it – she's -?"
"It's likely," Kir said quietly, "Lothga latch on to vulnerable souls, children and infants are the most vulnerable around."
He crumpled.
It wasn't pretty, it wasn't stoic, it was a furious wash of grief and terror and rage and all Kir could do was watch. There was nothing he could provide to comfort him, hells, this was an enemy he couldn't burn, not if it wasn't there to kill. And the only way to kill it when it was hidden was to remove its victims entirely, forcing it to manifest.
Sunlord, that he would have to burn children again.
***===***pagebreak***===***
Anur winced as Greves finally understood what it meant that his wife had been targeted by this lothga thing. He almost winced again at the dead look in Kir's eyes – he remembered that look, when he talked about his duties after Sunbeam Brook. There had to be another way, there had to. Burning children again, so relatively soon after he'd become convinced he'd never have to again, so soon after he'd had to kill that Sunsguard – this wouldn't be pretty. It wouldn't break him, that he was certain of, but it'd do a hell of a lot of damage.
What was it Kir had said? Vulnerable souls, children and infants the most vulnerable. But this thing had been locked in with those three for two days, no new victims – so maybe it'd go for a slightly less vulnerable soul…
:I do not like this idea, Chosen.:
:You got a better one? One where the bait has an equally good chance?: Anur demanded, :Because I'd love to hear it.:
:…No.:
:Then my plan it is,: he took a deep breath before saying aloud, "Vulnerable souls – how's one that almost made it to the judging?"
Everyone around that table turned to him as one, Kir's expression immediately shifting to a harried worry, "Why?" he asked quietly, but it was too clear he already knew the answer.
Anur smiled wearily, "It got close, that time a couple years ago. And if this thing's been locked in there for two days with no new victim, it may be getting desperate, desperate enough to go for less than ideal prey."
Kir's hands slid up his sleeves, a gesture Anur now knew was mainly used to hide trembling hands or white knuckles, though his expression returned to inscrutable. "This is a horrible idea," he finally said, "But I have none better."
"Just come in, fires blazing and kill the blasted thing," Anur said with another smile, hoping that it at least sort of covered up how utterly terrified he was of this. If he hadn't had Aelius lurking in the back of his mind, and known that Aelius could alert Kir the moment this lothga thing started preying on him, he would never have volunteered.
"So, trap the lothga and hopefully kill it tonight," Galen said after a few long moments of tense silence. "Then deal with the haunts and purifying the river? What sorts of things do we need for that?"
"We'll need your priest for this," Kir finally answered, turning back to the table, "Locals have a stronger connection for these sorts of things."
***===***pagebreak***===***
Birni had been headman of the village for over a decade and had never even heard of anything like this. Not happening in real life! Just old stories, worn and weary tales told around campfires and at festivals to scare the young ones.
Sunlord, he would never be able to tell a story like that again.
He and Father Hanlik were carrying the unconscious Enforcer into the temple after the Sun Descending service, lying him down across a small aisle from Synia, near the altar. Initially the thought had been to put him right next to her, but the Firestarter had insisted on extra space – something about his flames needing the room to ensure he wouldn't burn anybody.
When a Firestarter started talking flames it was safest to just nod and go along with it, so they had agreed.
Hells, they were already unnerved. Weird creatures, bizarre deaths – the entire thing was like an old hero tale! Then this Enforcer just volunteers to suffer a potentially awful death and the Firestarter agrees with the idea, albeit reluctantly. The reluctant agreement is the amazing part: agreement because he didn't care, not too startling, refusal because he does and won't risk it? Expected. But agreement because of duty and reluctance because of loyalty? Bizarre.
And the Enforcer calmly says he won't be able to fall asleep, the Firestarter had best knock him out, and he just lays there and lets the Firestarter pinch his carotid until he passes out! Malak may have pulled him aside and reassured him that this Firestarter was different, was actually a decent person, but there was a large gap between decent person and someone who could be trusted like that.
If they made it out of this, he was going to have to have a long and serious talk with Greves about just what the hell went on with that bandit hunting unit of his.
And for the first time in a long while, Birni sent up his own genuine prayer. Sunlord, please let this work.
(because if that Enforcer died, they were screwed)
***===***pagebreak***===***
It was a beautiful night. Summer's heat hadn't reached its peak yet and the evening was pleasantly cool rather than frigid. A half-moon shone down on them and no clouds were there to obscure the stars. One thing he had always selfishly enjoyed about being a priest, and a Firestarter in particular – the night had never held true fear for him, not from the Furies that kept people locked in their homes, keeping them from beautiful sights like this.
But he would much rather be stuck out on a temple's front steps in a raging, freezing blizzard than stand here under the stars waiting.
Even running through his usual meditations failed to calm him – he couldn't enter an honest trance state, not when he was terrified he would miss the signal.
At least he knew there was a signal, rather than some 'feeling' that something was wrong. Oh, he had spun it, mentioned mage-craft and sensing energy balances, but it had boiled down to he would 'know' when the lothga moved on to Anur and was vulnerable. Not the most exact method and not one he would ever risk his friend on, but they had an ace up their sleeves in the form of the witch-horse.
Not out here, that would require too much explaining and be too memorable, but in his stall, pretending to sleep, ready to battle-scream the signal Kir needed.
The Sescha twins and former ensign Greves were here, as was the headman and the local priest, a parish black-robe named Hanlik. A good man, from what Kir could see of his relationship with his people, a good priest, respected and loved. Seeing local priests like this, like Asher's, always made him wonder where he would have ended up, had he decided to avoid the Firestarting Order. Would he have been like them? Loved and respected without fear, without honest terror staring them in the face day after day?
But it was useless speculation, and if this blasted lothga would get a move on he wouldn't have to stand around waiting any longer and the entire thing would be moot.
Actually, if he hadn't been part of the Order, he never would have studied how to kill these things, and he may have been stuck in Hanlik's position, watching his people die and being unable to do anything, not even able to give a name to the evil that plagued them.
He had always hated being helpless.
Something shifted.
"Now!" he cried, battle-scream of a Companion echoing through the night at the same moment he burst through the door, small lamps and Ever-Burning Flame roaring up to fill the temple with light.
Shriveled and blackened, the beastly thing hissed around fang-pierced lips, howling as Kir slammed into it with a blast of flame, "Anur!" he cried, worried – his friend was so still.
The Herald waved his hand, struggling to breathe, and Kir flung himself past him, standing between Anur and the lothga with a fierce snarl on his face. The monster echoed it and warped, expanding into a vast cloud of inky smoke carrying whispers of people, of faces within it and he finally, truly hated.
Striking wildly to get past his flames, the thing let out unnerving snarls and screeches as Kir tightened the circle, closing gaps so the stirring victims could be dragged out. It wasn't until Synia was nearly out the door that the thing tried again, suddenly slamming out and up raining down onto them and Kir shouted a wordless kya, his flames flickering before flaring up around him and Anur again, the Herald finally regaining his feet.
"Lieutenant!"
A sword, Anur's sword, they'd left it outside stupid he should have grabbed it – came into sight and Kir knew it was a poor throw, no way was it going to make it – and it slammed into the Herald's palm hilt-first. One expert twirl through the flames and Anur reared back, throwing it straight up even as Kir flared the metal to white-hot and the lothga screamed, a screeching, hair-raising sound that Kir could have gone his whole life without hearing and it was dead. Steaming water splashed down onto the floor of the temple, sword clattering to the ground and water evaporating around it with a hiss.
"I'm alive," Anur said blankly.
Kir cut short a hysterical laugh, pulling that ridiculous, stupid Herald into a fierce hug and saying, "You are never volunteering for something like this again."
"If I try, just smack me," Anur agreed, burying his face in Kir's shoulder and shuddering, "That was – that was awful."
"Is it dead?" Galen asked from the doorway, sticking his head through and watching them worriedly, "And are you two all right? We're all okay out here."
"It's dead," Kir confirmed, everything feeling somehow brighter the moment it was pierced through… well, whatever counted as a heart for that thing. "And we're fine. Don't let them sleep. They need to stay awake until dawn, their spirits are still… unsettled, not firmly anchored. Dawn will fix it entirely."
"Damn, I was about to request a nap," Anur grumbled, still shaking slightly but stuffing his hands in his pockets to hide the more obvious tremors.
This, at least, Kir could do something about.
Arm around his friend, he guided him past the small group on the steps, nodding shortly to the still alert Galen who let them pass without comment. From the sounds of it, they were calming everyone down and then would move them to the inn, where Birni had kept a hearth-fire burning.
Similar direction, different destination.
They got to the stables and the witch-horse's still white head was sticking out over the stall door, straining towards Anur who let out a strangled sob before nearly collapsing against the wall, forehead resting against the witch-horse's cheek. Kir grabbed blankets from a side-room and wrapped them around the now shivering Herald, pulling him down so they were sitting next to each other against Aelius' stall door, the witch-horse able to reach down and rest his muzzle against Anur's face.
"That – that was awful, I'll say it again," Anur shuddered, Kir wrapping an arm around his shoulders and carefully sending heat into the blankets – he was still cold to the touch. "Havens – no wonder you hate blood mages so much, fuck – they set those sorts of things loose?"
"The lothga are some of the worst," Kir replied tiredly, "And I'll repeat it too – you are never doing something like that again. You were vulnerable before, what do you think this has done? Damn it Anur, this – no. Not again."
"…Aelius agrees, says he can anchor me so I'm not that vulnerable, not even as bad as I was before – we had to weaken it, the bond, to get it to work," Anur shook violently for a moment, "I couldn't hear him."
"All right, all right, easy – it's over," Kir murmured, Anur collapsing against his side and shaking, tears slowly dripping down his face (Kir's own eyes were shining but he had practice at this, by the One God!), "Over, and never happening again if I have any say in it. I hate being helpless like that. Felt utterly useless."
They sat in silence for a while, Kir not worried about checking his being awake – the witch-horse would take care of that – when he heard people approaching the stables. He nudged Anur and Aelius raised his head slightly, but quickly lowered it back to Anur's hair when they recognized the twins.
"Sirs," Balin nodded, sitting down across from them, Galen going past to grab some blankets for himself and his brother before joining them. "How are you doing, Lieutenant-Enforcer?"
"That's a bloody inconveniently long title," Anur mumbled, looking over at him, "Been better, been worse, bout all I can say right about now. Sucks a lot. Cold."
"Yeah, the others were mentioning that, have them all bundled up in front of the fire, hot tea on the brew. Brought some heated sausage rolls out, figured you two might be hungry, not like any of us ate much before this whole thing," Galen nodded, Balin pulling the top off a basket with a flourish, passing one warmed roll to everyone, a cask of what Kir was willing to bet was quite a bit stronger than tea sitting in the middle.
They all devoured two each. Galen had been right, none of them had really eaten anything before the entire evening started, too tense or worried to bother.
"So, we figured this was a good time to tell you all about the things you never thought you'd need to know about Karse," Balin said cheerfully, pulling the cork out of the bottle and wrinkling his nose at the sharp smell of prodka that emerged. "First things first, prodka. Drink of a true man, according to most, even though not too many people actually drink it outside of occasional special events. It's not the best of tastes."
"Speak for yourself," Kir scoffed, "Prodka is excellent, particularly once you find a good distiller."
"You drink this stuff straight regularly?" Galen asked skeptically, Anur chuckling and confirming it, "He does, carries a flask of it all the time."
"…That, is ridiculous. And overkill, a firestarter carrying his predecessor?" Balin snorted, "Well at least you won't lack for fuel!"
They all shared that laugh, each knowing the origin story he referenced. "I'm surprised," Kir said thoughtfully, "That you know that story. And the rhyme – your grandmother again?"
Both twins nodded, Galen speaking, "Aye, she told us the old stories all the time, sir. Stories and rhymes – scared us half to death, don't mind me saying."
"No, a lot of the old stories are rather disturbing," Kir agreed.
"So what's this rhyme then?" Anur asked, shifting slightly so he was more upright, Kir removing his arm from around his shoulders so they could simply sit side by side. He kept warming the blankets though.
All three Karsites exchanged glances, then spoke as one,
"Death comes dancing, comes screaming,
Tis the corlga, they are teeming.
Eyes are open, nobody's home
This is where the lothga roam.
Songs are silenced, voices dead,
There the bishra raise their head.
Faces aged, bodies shriveled
Here is where the vankra traveled.
Two to follow, two to lead
Witach's brood follows his creed."
Anur was pale, and shuddered, "You teach that to kids? Hells, I'm going to have nightmares!"
Kir smiled wryly, "There is a reason I was surprised they knew it. It's not something people teach anymore, not with it being centuries since a blood-mage set foot on our soil."
"Ugh. Okay, something happier, please. Anything, seriously."
"Drinking songs and dice games it is!"
***===***pagebreak***===***
Synia looked up when Father Hanlik stepped into the inn, the middle-aged man smiling at the sight of her. "It is very, very good to see you well, Synia," he said quietly, "Now, we're about to start the Sun Rising service, I think it would be good for you three in particular to come."
"Of course," she nodded, nudging a dozing Mal and he jerked awake, looking around frantically before he caught sight of her and relaxed. She smiled sadly, it must have been hard on him – she didn't actually remember much of the nightmares she'd been plagued with, only vague terrors lurking. Rodri, the boy who'd fallen first, remembered the most, he was staring into the flames with fierce concentration, close enough she was honestly worried he was going to light himself on fire. Lira didn't remember anything, apparently, just falling asleep and feeling cold.
"Come on you two," Niva said from her seat at a table, standing with Lira on her hip as her husband helped Rodri to his feet, "Let's go greet the dawn."
"And the other one?" Synia asked, brow furrowed as she tried to remember those first few confusing minutes, "The… Sunsguard?"
"Enforcer," Hanlik corrected, and she paled. An Enforcer meant one thing only, and that was a Firestarter close behind.
"It's Father Kir, Synia, the chaplain from the 62nd. The twins brought him when I sent that letter," Mal murmured and she felt some of the tension ease. Mal hadn't told her everything about his time in the Sunsguard, but a friendly and helpful chaplain had figured in a few of the stories.
"You never mentioned he was a Firestarter!" she hissed at him as they walked out the door after the reunited family of four.
He just shrugged uncomfortably and gave a tiny smile – she hated that expression, it was adorable and let him get away with far too much. But even as she thought that, she sighed and leaned into his one-armed hug, "Fine, fine," she allowed, "I forgive you."
"My heart swells with joy," he dead-panned, Synia laughing and smacking him on the chest for it.
They were joined by the rest of the village – everyone was coming to this service, she noted, exchanging smiles and greetings with the others, the children swarming their two recovered playmates as their parents beamed. Mal and she continued to follow right behind Father Hanlik as he entered the temple, catching the tail end of what must have been a very bizarre conversation.
"—danced to death? How does that even work?"
"Grandmother always said their hearts beat so fast, they ended up exploding," a Sunsguard shrugged – a twin, judging by the identical man standing next to him. These must be the Sescha brothers Mal mentioned so fondly.
"Enough, we can discuss it later," the Firestarter said, black-trimmed red robes unmistakable. All four rose to their feet, having been sitting on the back pews. Sharp grey eyes examined her carefully and Synia could feel her spine involuntarily straightening, Mal squeezing her shoulders reassuringly.
"Apologies," the man murmured, stepping back and around the Enforcer without a glance, ensuring she wasn't actually within sight of him. She blinked for a moment, unsure what he was apologizing for, before realizing her hand had unconsciously moved to cover her abdomen – already responding to the news Malak had relayed.
Mal exchanged a nod with the Enforcer before keeping her moving up to the front, Synia unable to keep herself from looking over her shoulder at the row of four. He had actually – that was an old folk tradition she'd never really thought much of, but for him to go out of his way to follow it? That wasn't – well. It sounded like the chaplain Mal had told her about, but it didn't sound like a Firestarter at all.
She'd have to think on this.
***===***pagebreak***===***
"So what was that about?" Anur asked lowly, eyeing Kir worriedly as the rest of the village crammed into the temple for the dawn service.
"Old tradition," Kir murmured, eyes tight, "Firestarters can sense witch-powers in the unborn, and if that happens they burn them both. Or they induce witch-powers so the child is condemned at birth, or their presence causes mother's anxiety and damages their birth – I don't know. A variety of consequences, but basically to avoid problems I need to avoid her. And any other pregnant woman. And weddings. Firestarters at weddings are even worse omens."
Anur thought about that, and about what priests normally did, and didn't like where this was heading. "So you can't do the normal priest things then – preside over services in a village, there might be pregnant women around. Can't preside over weddings, that's a curse or something dumb. That doesn't make any sense, Kir."
"It's tradition," Kir snorted bitterly, "Doesn't have to make sense. And it's not like I'm expected to follow it, people who believe in it arrange for things to fall out appropriately. But she was just attacked by a lothga and probably didn't even know she was bearing before this whole thing happened, so I thought I'd take care of it myself."
Anur could read between those lines, and knew very well that even if she hadn't been attacked, he would have avoided her. Avoided her and those around her, so he could avoid the fearful looks and poorly hidden flinches. That explained why Kir seemed so familiar with those traveler's chapels – at least there he didn't have to deal with entire villages of people shying away from him.
This country was seriously messed up.
Any further discussion was delayed, as the service finally started, pre-dawn light quickly spilling over into true dawn and Vkandis it felt good to stand in the sunlight again. Exhaustion faded away, energy boosted and memories of the fierce struggle inside his head inside his soul dimmed, pushed back in the warm light of day. Here's hoping they stayed away and didn't plague his nightmares for decades to come, but he wasn't going to hold onto that idea too much – especially not with that utterly creepy rhyme to pick through as well. Dancing to death, seriously.
And of course, they weren't done yet. Hanlik and Birni had given instructions to various villagers to construct stands and wind-chimes according to the peculiar steps that were considered necessary for a purification. Seven chimes of staggered lengths, carved in daylight while the individual in question recited prayers – any sort of prayer, according to Kir, so long as they meant it.
Work on those would continue today, while Kir and he went to deal with these unquiet dead. Apparently that was best done at noon, but so was the purification ritual, so they were hoping to get the spirits dealt with and then do the purification at noon. Otherwise they'd be here for an additional day and it didn't take a genius to realize that Kir didn't want to spend any longer here than he had to.
Anur was grateful for practice with the Temple of the Lord of Light – he was able to follow along with the service and participate without tripping over himself. Between Father Gerichen and his own work in Karse a few years ago he had enough experience with these services to get by – Kir had also given him an intensive course in the more obscure traditions of temples that he would encounter now that he was an Enforcer, a position that could be argued to be a type of acolyte.
Quite possibly even more entertaining than the official employee of the Sunsguard angle, but not one he planned to bring up any time soon.
He took a deep breath on exiting the temple at the end of the service, looking up to the clear blue sky – sign of a blazingly hot day, he was sure – before turning to a calmly waiting Kir and asking, "So. Where to next?"
"Riverbanks, we have a consolation rite to conduct," Kir replied, looking over at the waiting twins and continuing, "You two are welcome to come along, but not necessary."
"You two will be distracted with haunts," Balin refuted, "So we'll be there to deal with less spiritual messes that might come up."
Anur was glad of that – more because of the gesture than the actual likelihood of them needing it, but glad nonetheless. Kir accepted the declaration with a nod, any verbal reply interrupted by the arrival of Father Hanlik, who handed over a small silk pouch mutely.
Kir accepted, bowing over it and murmuring thanks, the other priest returning the bow, saying, "I will bring the representatives with the necessary supplies to the junction at noon."
"Is that timeline doable or will we need to conduct the ceremony at Sun Rising tomorrow?" Kir asked, Hanlik shaking his head and replying, "They worked through the night on the things they could, those that require daylight are nearly complete – every hand has turned to the work."
"Good," Kir smiled, "That will make things easier. Thank you, Father Hanlik."
The older priest simply nodded and left, probably going to ensure preparations really were going smoothly. Kir looked over at him and raised an eyebrow, Anur just smiling grimly, "Horses?" he asked.
"Horses," his friend agreed.
It took no time at all for them to be riding out of town, Balin and Galen murmuring in surprise at the very obvious dead-patches, already smaller than they had been the day before. That lothga had made a difference then. Anur ignored them beyond noting that pattern, instead trying to figure out just what this consolation ceremony was going to entail – Kir had said it wouldn't require any participation on his part, but Anur was too used to how things went around Heralds to think that he wouldn't get dragged into it somehow, especially not with what he'd done last night.
:Relax Chosen – nothing tried to latch on to either of you yesterday. I'm not certain if that was due to my presence, Kir's, or both, but I do not think we will be facing any truly murderous spirits today,: Aelius replied, before continuing with resigned bemusement, :Not that I have much experience with spirits – not exactly something we really deal with much back in Valdemar. A learning experience for us both then.:
:Oh fantastic, just what I wanted to hear,: Anur groaned, :You could have at least pretended to know what you were doing!:
:I know what I'm doing!: Aelius snorted indignantly, tossing his head, :I'm just… not exactly an expert. Like Griffon to Kir – I can get the job done but it's not exactly subtle. Or entirely controlled.:
:Well let's avoid that sort of collateral damage, and we should be all right,: Anur sighed, eyeing the quickly approaching junction of the two watercourses – one from Hardorn, banks dead and shriveled, the other one of the Sons Springs, banks flourishing. It made for a stark contrast, and definitely put paid to any sort of purely physical poisoning being blamed – the lines were too sharp for that.
Kir raised a hand and they all reined in to a halt next to him. Looking over at the twins, he said, "It would be best if you waited upstream the Son's Spring branch, should be safer there. Kindly take Riva with you. The three of us will stand here for the rites."
"Of course Sun's Ray," Balin replied, Anur raising an eyebrow at the new title. How many ways were there to address Kir? Hells, how many ways were there to address a regular parish priest, Kir certainly had at least that many optional titles, if not more. Did they all mean something different, at least in connotation? They had too, how else would you pick which one to say?
:Chosen, focus,: Aelius interrupted, clearly amused, and Anur hastily dismounted, Kir raising an eyebrow as the twins headed off, Riva following reluctantly. "Distracted," Anur explained to the mute question, "I'll ask you later, nothing important at the moment."
"Right," Kir replied dryly, shrugging it off before continuing seriously, "It would be best if you linked with the – with Aelius. He can likely allow you to see both… aspects. This is consecrated sage and sandalwood," he held up the silken bag Hanlik had handed him, "They are a standard purification incense blend – it will also call them forward to be recognized. That's the bit where we'll find out just how hostile they actually are."
"Will more of those lothga show up?" Anur replied, hastily continuing at the slightly insulted look, "If they're already here – I know you're not calling them, but wouldn't they be… attracted to it? Like spirits would?"
"No – they're different categories of being entirely," Kir replied, apparently understanding his confusion, "We'll have to go over these sorts of rites in more detail later, I hadn't anticipated them being necessary so early into your instatement as an Enforcer."
"Lucky me then," Anur replied dryly.
Kir just snorted, "Indeed."
Turning towards the streams' meetings, he reached into the bag and drew out a handful of dried herbs, the aroma immediately hitting and only increasing in potency when he threw them into the air, smoke wafting from them as they slowly burned. Anur inhaled deeply through his nose, tangling his fingers in Aelius' mane before diving into their connection, eyes mostly shutting. Kir's voice wove around them, chanting a peculiar prayer – it was old Karsite, very old – to the point he could only catch the gist of it, calling forth spirits to answer for their actions, to present their case before judgment. The lack of understanding helped though – he spent less time focusing on what Kir was saying and more on what was going on as a whole, making it work more as a mantra than anything else. He could use the assistance, he hadn't done meditation in a while – it had been recommended for hiding Gifts within Karse – but between Kir's chanting and the incense it didn't take long for the increased mental awareness to hit.
And hit it did, with a bit more of a punch than he expected. Inhaling sharply, his eyes flew open as he watched shadow figures form in the smoke – the entire day seemed dulled, distant. Green banks were shaded but somehow glowing? The dying banks of the Hardornen branch were absolutely disgusting in this weird lighting – a sickly yellow, with black-stained red woven in the soil, throbbing like some rotting pustule.
Kir's chanting had wound down and he looked over at his friend, unable to prevent a gasp at the sight. No way was this just lighting!
"Mage-sight, Chosen. Slightly… off mage-sight, but that's what it is," a familiar voice said aloud, and he looked at Aelius and immediately felt a headache coming on. His fingers were tangled in Aelius' mane, he could still feel that, but the glowing white horse wasn't all that he saw – embedded or overlain was an image of a middle-aged man in an old Heraldic uniform and an aquiline face. His hand was resting on that man's shoulder's, according to his eyes, while at the same time resting on his Companion's withers tangled in soft white hair but they were both there were both the –
"Chosen," the horse-man-Companion said gently, "Look away."
Anur was only too glad to obey that one, wrenching his eyes away and returning his focus to the figures that had finally finished forming in front of them. It was… horrifying. Rank upon rank of farmers flickering between pitchforks and shepherd's crooks and poorly fitted armor with badly balanced swords – tattered banners burnt and shredded but still flying and that pulsing rot was inside all of them.
"I kind of feel like throwing up," Anur said aloud.
"Don't," Kir said shortly, "Right now we're half a step removed from the physical plane, having a purely physical reaction like that will disrupt it and you'll be yanked out, not a good idea. But the blood-magic is… nauseating."
"Aye, it's pretty bad," one of the Hardornen men in the front ranks agreed, a long-suffering look on his face, "Thought we'd be free of it, when we were dead. But we're stuck here, stuck good and hard."
"Following the water to try and get away," Kir continued, tilting his head to the side, "At least at first."
"They needed mages with us to keep us under, right? Seemed worth a shot, that distance would free us," the spokesman (spokes-spirit maybe?) shrugged, the movement jarring as he went from armor to homespun, pike going to axe. The distant-eyed look, very strange with pupil-less eyes – a feature all the ghosts shared now that Anur was looking for it – faded, an intense focus coming over the spirit as he spoke directly to Kir, "We found those things following us. Eating us – then it went for people, real people. We tried to stop it, when it latched on – but they weren't – we didn't know what we were doing. We tried but we killed them. And I apologize. But we wanted to stop that… that thing from getting people. It was getting stronger from us, and we're dead, scattered and barely hanging on. What could it get from the living?"
Kir sighed, nodding, "I thought it was something like that," he said softly. "The lothga is dead. Were there more than one?"
Anur shuddered at the idea of running into more of those things – hells, at the idea of running into one of those things here! It had been horrifying enough to look at awake and not with this bizarre double-vision, here it was probably a true nightmare-wretch.
"Anur, stop thinking about it," Kir said sharply, gaze entirely on the flickering spirits. Anur hastily wrenched his thoughts away from that track, flinching as he spotted the suddenly fewer spirits that stood before them.
"Not taken, not by that thing," the spokes-ghost said, "Just… hiding. In case. No, there weren't any others. Just us, being carried along. We set up watches further down the river, in case it came down. We could at least delay it, maybe try again to go after it. We're… we're dead. We can't help anyone at home that way. We might as well help here, stop Ancar's evil from spreading."
"A brave thing," Kir said softly, Anur agreeing wholeheartedly.
"What else was there for us to do?" the spirit said dully, also starting to flicker. "We're condemned here, stuck. All that's left is for us to… forget."
"No!" Kir refuted, sharp tone punctuated by a flare of flame – not red, not the usual yellow-tinged orange, but a true gold, like sunshine – and the spirit froze, staring at that glow hungrily.
"No," Kir continued more gently, the golden flame warping to form an orb between his palms, "Not all. You can go on, to what awaits you."
"We did awful things," the ghost murmured, the objection weakened by his longing expression, "Horrible, horrible things."
"Blood-magic leaves no room for free-will," Kir corrected, "What is done under that banner is not yours to bear. Beyond that – the Sunlord is merciful, is not your deity the same? Move on, steal back what was yours at last. Don't let Ancar dictate your afterlife as well as your death."
That last sentence definitely made a difference, the ranks of spirits suddenly swelling, no flickers evident as the idea of Ancar being able to dictate anything to them in death was refuted, and refuted whole-heartedly. "Go!" Kir said, strident tones having a bizarre echo to them here, golden orb flaring and fluxing in his hands before leaping out to blaze in front of them, spinning into the by now familiar Sun-in-Glory emblem, "Be at peace."
First one, then a second, then tens, hundreds – swarmed into that light, vanishing even as it blazed brighter with every spirit that passed through it. Finally, only the spokes-ghost remained, wrenching his gaze from the light to stare at the two of them gratefully, "Thank you, Herald. Thank you, Sunpriest."
"Go," Anur echoed Kir's earlier command, smiling, "Be at peace."
One more smile, then the man vanished, Sun-in-Glory flaring to white, near blinding, before fading to nothing. Anur blinked spots out of his eyes – no longer in that bizarre 'half-step removed' place it seemed – and looked in shock at the riverbanks in front of him. Formerly wilting and browned, pulsing and red-black in the other mage-sight place, they were now lush and green to rival the Son's Springs branch. Even the stretch without any dilution – he wouldn't be surprised if every inch of Karsite riverbank along that stream was more vibrant and green than it had been in years.
"Sunlord be praised," he heard from behind him. Looking over his shoulder he saw Balin and Galen dropped to their knees, awe clear on their faces.
Glancing over at Kir, he was unsurprised to see his friend staring up towards the sun, a smile on his face. Finally releasing Aelius' mane, he took the one step necessary and wrapped an arm around his friend's shoulders, giving him a quick one-armed hug as he followed his gaze. He let the reflective and worshipful silence go for a moment, he had to – needed to say his own thankful prayers after all – but then he had to bring it up.
"So – you use that kind of incense at all your ceremonies? Have to say, the colors were pretty weird," he teased, Kir snorting and elbowing him in the ribs.
"Shut up Herald," he tossed back with a smile, "We don't drug our people. Just terrify them."
"Ah, yes. A fine distinction," Anur mocked, Aelius whickering a laugh behind him.
"I couldn't expect a heathen to understand," Kir sniffed, turning back to the riverbanks with a grateful expression, "Vkandis most merciful, thank you," he murmured, sketching the Holy Disk in the air in front of him.
Anur looked over at Aelius, then back to the river and smiled. For a trip that had started out with some pretty terrifying moments, it had turned out a lot brighter than expected.
And he had plenty to write to his mother about!
***===***pagebreak***===***
Synia listened to the clacking of the wooden wind-chimes hanging along the inn's porch, watching the stables and waiting. Yesterday most of the town had headed up the river for the purification ceremony, only to find that it was hardly needed. Sickened riverbanks were flourishing, poisoned wells clear and crisp again – they hardly needed a priest to tell him they'd received a miracle.
The seven wind-chimes and oil-lamps had been posted along the river as planned, bundles of sage burning above them. More wind-chimes and lamps had been made, all the lamps sent to the temple while the wind-chimes went up all over the village – it was all she and Mal could do to keep them from hanging over every square inch of their ceiling! No, one per household was plenty, with the extras circling the inn and the wells. They were bound and determined to not face something like this ever again.
Rodri came up and stood quietly beside her, Synia looking down at the boy worriedly before returning her gaze to the stables. She needed to have words with the Firestarter, and he kept avoiding her. Courteous, for him to pay heed to that ridiculous old wives' tale, but frustrating.
So she was standing here on the porch of the inn, having come with Mal after the Sun Rising service so he could say goodbye to his Sunsguard friends. Mal and the twins had gone off to exchange farewells while the Enforcer and Firestarter were apparently getting the horses ready for their departure. Hence her observation of the stables.
Finally, her two targets came out, leading four horses by the reins. The Enforcer's paint was a truly beautiful creature, pure white with black and such intelligent eyes! The other three were no pitiful beasts, but they paled in comparison.
Dragging her eyes from the horses, she gathered her bundle and marched forward, Rodri tucking in behind her, unnervingly silent for a boy who, five days ago, would never stop talking.
"Your Holiness!" she called, the Firestarter turning and taking a step back when he caught sight of her, averting his eyes to Rodri and frowning slightly.
"Your Holiness," she said again, the Enforcer deceptively relaxed against his horse while he watched her, most certainly ready to jump between her and his Firestarter. "I wanted to thank you – and there is no need for that. If I ever did, I certainly can't believe that old wives' tale now! Vkandis Sunlord smiles upon you, Holiness, and any child of mine should be honored to have been in your presence," she said fiercely, the Sunpriest finally truly looking at her, grey eyes meeting her own, clearly startled, before that expression faded into a smile.
"You honor me," he said calmly, Synia almost able to see the weight lift from his shoulders and she felt proud that she could say she had lifted that burden from him. It wasn't right, that he should be tarred with the same brush as the more vicious of his brethren – if they even were. She had never met another Firestarter, never heard of them outside of legends and tales whispered in corners – what if they were all like this Father Kir?
Not something to count on, no, but something to consider.
"This is for you," she said, handing over her carefully tied bundle with a bow. It was a roll of fabric, carefully labeled pockets holding medicinal and holy herbs both and she knew he recognized it by the sharp inhale.
"And this is for you," she continued, handing a wax-paper wrapped package to the Enforcer, who smelled it and beamed, "Spice-cake!" he cheered, Synia laughing at his expression and happy to find that the twins' report of his fondness for the dessert was accurate.
The priest looked up from his examination of the list of herbs and plants pinned to the top of his bundle and he smiled, "I thank you. These will be very useful – though hopefully some will never be called on."
"One can hope, but the Sunlord helps he who prepares for none at all," she quoted and both of the men exchanged rueful glances at that. A story of their own, perhaps. She wouldn't be surprised.
"Synia!" Mal called, walking out with the twins, "Did you – oh! You did find them!"
"Yes, Mal," she replied cheerfully, "I am, in fact, capable of finding the stables on my own."
"It's a long ways," one of the twins agreed in mock solemnity, "Very dangerous. You might be beset by mousers!"
"Tripped by scheming water-troughs!" his brother agreed, "Very risky. You are a brave woman, Synia Greves."
"You two really are as ridiculous as he described," she laughed, happy she had been able to meet three of the people that had figured so prominently in her husband's memories of the Sunsguard, good and bad. It helped, knowing he'd had these three to look after him, the two ridiculous twins in particular.
"Spreading malicious lies about our character, Mal? How could you," one pouted, the other miming as if he were struck.
Further antics were interrupted by the Enforcer's dry, "Unfortunately, we do actually have to get back, so any further entertainment must be postponed."
The two immediately straightened and said farewells to Mal, bowing over her hand in over-the-top gestures of gallantry before taking their own horses. Mal meanwhile stepped forward to stand next to her, saying, "Thank you for coming, Father Kir, Enforcer Bellamy – I can't thank either of you enough for what you did."
"You are very welcome, both of you," the priest replied, looking between both of them, "Sunlord watch over you and yours, Malak and Synia Greves."
She and her husband bowed, accepting the blessing with silent thanks. Synia straightened and was startled to find the Sunpriest stepping past her, reaching out to a still silent Rodri, hand resting on the boy's head, "Sunlord watch over, protect, and guide you, Rodri," the priest said quietly, "I am sorry, that we were unable to get here sooner and spare you this."
Rodri looked up, and finally, finally smiled, the first since he woke, "It is enough that you came, Father. Thank you."
"Be careful, child," the Sunpriest said finally, stepping back and quickly mounting, herbalist pack tied to his saddlebags by the Enforcer while they'd talked. "Spread the word, if you could, Malak, to keep an eye out for these things."
"Of course Father. Safe journeys, all of you. And Sunlord protect you."
The four all made some gesture of acceptance, finally riding out. The formal farewells to the headman and local priest had been made this morning, so there was nothing keeping them any longer. Synia was simply grateful she'd been able to personally convey her thanks before they'd disappeared.
She headed off with her husband, ready to face the rest of the day and the rest of her life secure in the knowledge that Vkandis Sunlord was watching over them and that there were Firestarters still truly serving as protectors.
She missed entirely the small flame dancing between Rodri's palms.
A/N: Okay, so this was… rough. And a piece I've been fighting with for weeks. Based very much on Kethry's discussion of planar creatures with Tarma in the Oaths books and some of Karal's discussion of Karsite beliefs on ghosts in Storm Breaking. Oh and the whole exorcism scene with Robin Goodfellow in Lackey's Wizard of London. Writing stories about spectral monster things is hard – for some awesome ones, check out an ATLA fic called Embers, and an SG1-ATLA crossover called The Dragon King's Temple – good fics, very good malicious spirit scenes.
Lothga – based on shtriga (both original and Supernatural versions) and dementors.
