Return into the elven ruins wasn't really what Morr wanted, not after having already experienced them once. In fact, his latest troubles had cemented in him the idea that the farthest away ruins of any kinds were from him, the better it was.
Still, it was necessary, and so it was done.
Not that he was enthusiast about it.
Returning into the heavy atmosphere of the ruins was like jumping into cold water. As he put his feet down from having clambered out of the hole Morr let out a shaky hiss. He hadn't noticed how much of a little safe haven Gargan's den had felt, not until he had left it. The air outside of it bore down on him like a shroud.
He had readjusted his backpack over his shoulders, stuffing the elf-things' book in it. The other book instead, the scarier one, he had preferred tying it over the first, making sure that it was out in the open and visible. For some reasons, having it at glance lenght reassured him, at least a bit. It was a bit of a cumbersome load, but it was necessary. And then, it could always become useful as a shield for his back. The mace-cane was in his right paw, while the knife, since he could use effectively the other weapon only with both paws, was tucked into the string that he used as a belt. He had made a knot just to keep it still.
Trying to distract himself from the oppressing air, Morr turned to his brother.
Having clambered out first, Gargant was already there and ready to go, a big, worn-out pack on his back. He gripped a crude spear, a long stick ending into a point hardened and blackened over the fire. To Morr's mixed feelings, even so poorly armed, he didn't seem particularly touched by the strange atmosphere. Instead, as he adjusted the laces securing the backpack to his shoulders, he looked as serious and impassive as his usual.
Morr was starting to get used to it.
He shook his muzzle. Ack, what a bother. It felt like having insects flying around his snout.
"Elf-things build deep." Gargant mumbled suddenly.
Morr scratched his snout, trying to ease his irritation.
"So what?" He asked.
The black-fur didn't turn to look at him.
"They build so deep-strong that a bit of them remain attached-sticked. And they don't like us-us."
Grabbing his weapon, he turned and began to march down the corridor.
Morr, processing what he had just said, started and scurried after him. The last thing that he wanted was to remain alone in that place, that was for sure.
He stopped just behind his brother, adjusting his pace to match the black-fur's longer gait. He eyed their deployement for a couple of seconds, before nodding with satisfaction. If something arrived, Gargant would have been the one to bear the full brunt of it. Otherwise, he would have his big books to shield him. Not that he thought about using such treasures, especially the black one, as simple shields, oh no no no.
His eyes flicked around, searching for signs of god-angered punishment.
He sighed in relief when nothing arrived.
Anyway, his attention rapidly returned over the path.
The elven ruins, despite his secret hopes, hadn't changed. The ghastly, oppressive atmosphere. The richly colored frescoes and strangely-moving carvings. The unnerving lack of sounds and smells. What a joy.
The duo marched in silence through corridors and halls.
Morr's thoughts jumped between enthusiasm for the chances that seemed to being offered to him, fear and anxiety for that terrible place, and questions upon questions about that strange fellow that was his brother. And how it would have been very difficult for him to survive should have he decided that he didn't need him anymore.
It wasn't needed much time before his fur was coated in sweat.
He was so concentrated over his own juggling of thoughts, that almost smacked his nose against Gargant's back when the black-fur stopped suddenly.
His protests were rapidly stifled by Gargant's hissing warning to silence.
Morr started. What was happening? Dangers? Where? What? Of what kind?
He tensely waited for his brother to reveal what was happening.
He waited.
And… waited.
Gargant looked as stuck as a trunk.
Frowning, Morr raised his snout and sniffed the air. He could feel nothing. He perked up his ears. Nothing all the same.
More annoyed than scared now, he extended a paw and made to touch Gargant. He remembered his latest reaction to being grabbed. He decided to remain on voice only.
"H-hey." He called. His voice didn't come out as firm as he wanted, but that wasn't the point.
The black-fur turned just enough to stare at him with one eye.
"What are you doing?" Morr asked.
"I am listening." Was the curt answer.
"To what-what?"
"To the whispers-murmurs."
That had to be a good enough explaination for Gargant, since he turned around just after.
Morr's frown deepened. He couldn't hear anything at all. He perked up his ears as much as he could, straining himself to listen. Maybe… Maybe… nope, nothing at all. That place was as silent as tomb.
He wondered what Gargant's game was. Was he kidding? But no, what the point of it would be? And in that moment furthermore? Still, he remembered, the black-fur had looked like he wanted to make a pawn out of him. Yes, he had thrown that thought in disarray a moment after, but that could have been a scheme of his.
And now… maybe now he was showing his real colors. Morr remembered a overseer during his scavenger days that pretended of being able of hearing dangers and whatnot. He made great shows of his so-called powers, making strange gestures, mumblings and the like, all to cheat the poor rat laborers like him of even more of their hard-earned coin. Boy if that situation brough that overseer back to memory.
Plus, from what he had understood from his encounters with ghosts, he shivered at the memory, standing still in those places wasn't the best one could do; in fact, it was the opposite of what one had to do. Standing still meant to wait for ghosts to come and get you. It made sense!
Morr felt a wave of rightful anger rising in his chest. A-ah! That proved that his brother wanted to make a fool out of him! Showing that he had strange powers to keep him in awe and humbled, so that he could order him around! And to do that, he even put him in danger!
Reckless! Foolish! Unforgivable! He wasn't the pawn of anybody! He was a mage!
Pushed by his outraged ire, Morr stomped forward and gave Gargant a shove.
The black-fur barely stumbled, caught himself, then turned, a question in his eyes.
Feeling those eyes on him, Morr felt his determination stumble a bit, but he held his ground.
"What?" Gargant asked.
"Don't give me that-that!" Morr blurted out, his rightful wrath kindled even more by that obvious facade. He pointed frantically at him in accusation. "You know what you've done-done! You liar-sneak!"
The sheer bewilderement that sprung on Gargant's face was the strongest manifestation of emotion that Morr had seen him do, and that irritated him even more. He was good at faking, the imposter!
"What?" Gargant asked, looking like someone that had just come down to earth.
Morr wasn't intent on humoring him. He crossed his arms before his chest, trying to bore a hole in his brother's head with his judgement stare.
Gargant hesitated, looking disoriented.
"I was… i was listening to the whispers-murmurs." He tried to excuse himself.
Morr wasn't having none of that.
"Liar!" He declared, pointing an accusatory finger against him.
"But…!"
"I don't hear anything-nothing! You're lying!"
"But… but…!"
"You're lying to try and look-seem great and better! Admit it-it, you liar-cheat!"
Gargant looked ready to start fretting, he really did, but then, he seemed to catch himself.
He inhaled, then exhaled. He retook his serious air.
"I wasn't…" He pinched his nose with two fingers. Then, he seemed to recount something. "Earlier" he said "when you said-squeaked that you could hear nasty-bad whispers."
Morr eyed him with suspicion. Was he trying to change topic?
"What about it-it?"
"You said-squeaked that you could hear nasty-bad whispers, right?"
"Yeah, you just said it-it."
"Right. Well, now i can hear-hear it."
"I don't believe you."
Gargant's face scrounched into a grimace.
"Why?"
"Because you're a liar-sneak, that's why."
"That's stupid."
"You're stupid."
Gargant threw a hard look his way, but Morr didn't let himself get intimidated. He knew that his brother still needed him.
On his side, Gargant looked about to say something else, but he took it back.
"Whatever." He just said, and, turning around, took a turn into another corridor.
Morr, still neck-deep into his sulky-judgemental mode, was surprised by that sudden change. He started and scuttled fast behind him.
"Hey, wait!" He called. Gargant had got away surprisingly fast. "I wasn't finished talking, yes-yes!"
"I don't care!" The black-fur replied without stopping.
"Yes, you do!"
"No, i don't!"
"Yes, you do! You don't get to scuttle-sneak away from this, you liar-cheat!
"I am not a liar-cheat!"
"Yes, you are!"
"No, i am not!"
"Then you're cray-crazy, hearing whispers-murmurs and things!"
"You've been hearing it too-too!"
"I am a mage! We hear those things!"
"You got pretty little horns for a mage-seer!"
"Oh no, you didn't say that!"
"Oh, i-i am pretty sure i did!"
"That's it-it! You're gonna get it-it now!"
"Oh, and what you're gonna do-do, you shortie?"
"I-i… i am gonna decide the way! This way!"
"Oh no, you don't. We're going this way-way."
"Liar-sneak don't get to decide! We go this way now-now."
"Happy journey!"
"Ehi, you need me to get your thing-sword!"
"I will use your arm when i find you dead-dead."
"N-no funny! Wait! Don't leave me-me alone!"
Eventually, they ended, to Morr's chagrin, on following the path chosen by Gargant. Still, by dint of overhelming protests, he still managed on having them stop by in a secluded chamber.
With only a elf skeleton strewn over a stone table to assist, and a speck of satisfaction in his chest, Morr laid down his backpack while Gargant stood sentinel over the door.
And sneaked peeks at him.
"What?" Morr growled after the umpteenth thrown stare. He was still angry for his brother's attempt to deceive him.
"I-i am just wondering how are you still alive-breathing."
Morr's snapped to watch the black-fur, his teeth baring into a snarl.
"Are you-you insulting me?"
Gargant shook his head. He looked like he had recuperated his poise.
"You went alone into the ruins." He explained. "First the beard-things' and then this ones, yes?"
"What about it?"
"How are you-you still alive?" He ignored the hiss of warning from Morr. "You scuttled-ran headlong into dead-things. Two times. And you got buried under the earth-tomb. You should be dead-dead."
Morr grunted in annoyance. He really really didn't want to remember that episode.
"I-it happened." He just said, his voice breaking a bit at having bad memories return. Ack, curse him!
Gargant seemed bent on ignoring him.
"And you can't hear-listen to murmur-whispers." He continued, looking thoughtful.
Morr rolled his eyes. Again with that stuff? Well, he wasn't falling for it again. He stubbornly ignored his brother and his stupid questions, focusing his attention on the knot that closed his backpack. The elven book seemed to shine slightly even into the gloom of the chamber.
Morr laid it down, then opened it. Symbols and lines of text flore before his eyes as he flipped the pages. He found the right one with an "a-ah!", then stepped back.
"Right-right, so!" He began in earnest, rubbing his paws together. "This says-squeaks that mages-seers can see the magic in the world with their eyes-senses."
"Right." Gargant aknowledged from his postation at the door.
Morr ignored him with a flick of satisfaction.
"It says-squeaks" he continued "that the man-things calls this witchsight, while the elf-things calls it Rumprtompr."
Gargant frowned, folding his arms before his chest.
"That doesn't sound right."
Morr threw a glare his way.
"I-i am the one reading!" He protested.
"You sure you read-read the right page?"
"Yes, i am sure! Ack, you're making me lose-lose focus! And what are you even doing there?"
"I am listening to the whispers-murmurs."
Morr had to repress a motion of exasperation. He closed his ears with his paws.
"Blah blah blah, i can't hear you-you!" He chanted.
Gargant rolled his eyes, but said nothing.
Satisfied for having the interruption ended, Morr returned to the matter at hand.
"So-so. It says-squeaks that to find-see if one has Rumprtrimpr." He glared at Gargant, then corrected himself. "Witchsight, you have to see-see if you can see-listen to strange things."
"Like what?"
Morr raised a finger in a cattedrathic pose, about to explain. Then stopped. He scratched his head. Blast, he couldn't remember. He picked up the book.
"Ehm, strange shapes." He read. "Images that nobody can see-smell, murmur-whispers, colors, strange smells and…" He squinted. "He-vee-nli lu-cu-bre-sion."
"What-what's that?" Gargant asked, frowning.
"Ehm, well, that's easy. It means, ehm…" Morr raked his brain in search for a convincing explaination. He really could use passing as a rat that knew his stuff right there. It could become useful on the long run. That he had got angry at his brother for trying something similar, it didn't even brush his mind.
"It-it means that…" He spelled. "If you eat something and it tastes funny, you could be a mage-seer." He ended triumphantly. That sounded just about right.
Gargant looked totally unconvinced.
"That sounds stupid." He commented laconically.
Morr flashed him an angry look, but didn't deign him of an answer. Curse him! He didn't deserve one!
Instead, he returned to focus on the book. He laid it down, then rubbed his paws together, eyes darting left and right.
"So, now…"
"Ehi, i hear whispers-murmurs. That makes me a wizard-seer?"
A vein popped on Morr's forehead, that tried his best to ignore the jeer of his obnoxious brother. Him, a seer, right. Morr was the seer, him and nobody else!
Excitament picking up, he left his senses extend into the chamber. It had been an eventful few days, to say the least, but, if something had kept on returning during them, it was the strange things that he had heard and seen. He remembered the whispers that had tormented him, the strange visions that had appeared before him, the alien sounds and shapes. Yes, they could have depended by the dead-things' influence, but…
No, he had to believe in his gift. Wasn't the book that he had received a well-enough proof? He was a mage. He had to be.
Eagerly, Morr focused his mind on his sorroundings. He felt Gargant's attention upon himself, but he made his best to ignore it, focusing instead on the chamber.
The elven book talked of quiet and calm as the best states of mind in which one could pick up the Winds. It said that it was better to push other thoughts out of one's mind, and of focusing on something that, following the rules of reality, showed a regular pattern or something similar. Like that, it was easier to pick up irregularities.
Trying his best to keep his anxiety at bay, Morr pushed his focus over the stone table at the center of the room. The elf skeleton was slumped over it, a thick layer of dust covering them both.
Despite its obvious age, the table still retained all the harmony of its construction. It probably was the most regular thing Morr had ever seen, and it would serve well.
Morr focused on its delicate lines and smooth surface. Ears perked up, he slowly scanned its frame with his eyes. He made a mental map of the thing, dividing it into a series of parts. Then, he focused his attention on a part at a time, searching for irregularities. He almost jumped out of his skin when he noticed a strange bump into its otherwise perfect form, but disappointment flooded in when he realized that it just was a clump of old cobwebs.
Shaking it away, he picked up his inspection with renewed vigor. He scanned the entirety of the object a first time, without finding anything unusual. He changed his mental map, making each space a smaller section, and began anew. He did it again when even the second scanning brought no result, moving to scan the thing centimeter after centimeter.
He leaned forward, almost ending on all fours while trying to get a better view. He squinted, then opened his eyes wide. He kept them like that for ten seconds, then twenty, ignoring the urge to blink and the feeling of burning.
He clenched his teeth, holding his breath.
He remained like that, tensed like an bowstring, until he had the sensation that his eyes were trying to pop out of his sockets and his vision swam. For a moment, he almost thought that he was actually seeing something, before realizing that it was all on him.
Then, when he couldn't hold it anymore, he let it out all with a gasp.
Nothing. He couldn't see nothing. He couldn't hear nothing.
Wheezing, he passed a paw over his snout, ruffling his whiskers. Disappointment boiled bitterly inside of him. No, no, he had to be a mage. He had to.
He realized only in that moment that Gargant had arrived at his side.
"Nothing?" The voice of the black-fur was little more than a murmur.
Morr wanted to be still angry with him, but the disappointment quelled him.
"I have heard them." He said bitterly, frustration rising inside of him. "The whispers-murmurs. The visions. It must mean that i am a mage. It must!"
Gargant didn't contest; he just nodded.
"Let's try somewhere else then."
Morr bit his lip, but nodded. Gargant turned to move, but he didn't follow him right away. First, he took a deep breath to steady himself. That was only the first attempt, only the first. There were still plenty of other tries to do. And he was a mage. He was!
Those thought comforted him, and he felt himself ready for more.
He turned to pick up his books, then rushed after his brother.
They wandered the silent halls of the elves for hours. Gargant led the way, moving as fast and secure as the first time Morr had seen him do it. Still, he changed direction almost randomly, making sudden corners or pushing Morr into chambers to wait for brief moments. More than once they ended up on bickering for this, Morr's squeaking voice echoing into the ruins while Gargant barely replied to him.
Morr wasn't stupid. He knew that to avoid bad turns of event once that his role in Gargant's errand was over, it would have been wise to avoid to bicker with him. And still, despite all the best intentions, he couldn't contain himself. He would'n have ever pushed or sassed another rat like he had done with Gargant, but with him… it was different. With him, he felt entitled to be obnoxious, to push and chitter, and he ended up on doing it before he could think otherwise. He himself wasn't sure why, and it was frustrating, finding himself being unable to keep his tongue at bay. It wasn't like himself, at all.
Still, he was unable to focus on that as much as he would have wanted, more pressing thoughts stealing his efforts.
They stopped more times than Morr wanted to count to try his witchsight. In chambers or corridors, even in great halls where he felt vulnerable to anything. And what they got was a big bunch of nothing. No matter how much he tried, Morr couldn't see, hear or smell nothing out of the ordinary, nothing that shouldn't have belonged to those blasted ruins.
And, each time that he found his hopes dashed, a growing sense of frustration planted his roots in Morr. Soon, frustration becam raging anxiety, and Morr's voice in their bickerings became louder and louder. But then, anxiety became gripping despair, and his squealing ended on being replaced by a shaky silence and a throbbing resignation.
Morr didn't even stop to watch his sorroundings as he entered into the umpteenth chamber of that horrible place, nor he watched if Gargant was following him. He just threw his back back on the floor, and planted his eyes on the first thing he saw, a old, stony thing that looked like some sort of furnace, but he didn't care enough to stop and try to understand its purpose.
Frantically, ignoring the headache that seemed about to split his head, he rummaged around the thing with his eyes, searching for something, anything that could be out of place. He didn't even know anymore what he was looking for, the words of the elven books, its tips and suggestions lost in the emotions that gripped him.
He pushed his focus against that blasted thing, almost feeling the hate and despair burning behind his eyes. He willed for something out of place to appear, then he ordered, then he begged.
And still, nothing.
The furnace was a furnace, and he was just a rat.
Morr remained there, even anger and hate failing him, leaving him only a knot in his throat and a feeling of emptiness on the bottom of his stomach.
He didn't give signs of aknowledging Gargant as the black-fur moved at his side.
The big brother put a paw on the back of his neck, looking sheepish.
"Well…" He began, but then he didn't say anything else. He had no idea of what to say.
Morr sobbed, trembling.
Gargant started a bit.
"Ehm, listen, bro… wait, " he blinked "are you-you crying?"
Morr turned away from him.
"I am n-not crying!" He stammered
"You-you're totally crying!"
"I-i am not! I-i…" His words trailed off into a broken sob. He swallowed, closing his eyes as tears ran down his cheeks.
Gargant looked ready to start fidgeting.
"H-hey, now! D-don't do this, don't…" The black-fur freezed as Morr turned around and buried his snout against his chest.
"I-i have nothing else, b-bro." He stammered. "T-they threw me o-out of the warren, yes-yes. I-if i don't do this, i-i don't have anything e-else. I-i am d-done."
He sobbed and hiccuped, trying and failing to stop the rush of emotions.
Without a clue of what to do, Gargant stood still, feeling his brother's tears wetting his fur.
For a couple of moments, the only things to pierce the silence were the smaller skaven's sobs and shaky breaths.
"E-ehm…" Gargant tried eventually. "Morr, brother-mate, listen…" He fidgeted a bit with his arms, not knowing what to do with them, before letting them fall down at his sides. "You-you aren't done, alright? I-It's just the first day, yes-yes. You got all those strange visions, yes-yes. They have to-to mean something, right? I-i mean, you got that book of yours, isn't? A-alright, you chickened out and still didn't read it, b-but…"
Gargant barely noticed the forewarning. A moment earlier, his brother was almost slumped against him, crying and bawling his eyes off, then, he felt him suddenly stiffened. Gargant managed barely to think that maybe, just maybe, that combination of words hadn't been the wisest he could choose, before his brother sprang up like a startled rat. Mouth wide-open, closed eyes and the wet trails of the tears still visible on his snout, the smaller skaven let out a violent chittering scream that made Gargant jump.
He stood there for a couple of moments, just screaming his lungs off, as his massive vocalization bounced up against the walls of chamber.
Then, his mouth clenched shut like a bear trap and he snapped to look at Gargant.
Even with the still wet trails on his snout, and the lines of snot falling down from his nose, there was such a fire in his eyes, that even the black-fur felt impressed, not like he needed much more nudging for that.
"I didn't chicken out!" Morr screeched, stabbing a warning finger against him. "It was just caution, you hear me? Caution!"
Dumbstruck, Gargant just nodded.
"Good! And you better remember it-it! Now let's go doing your stupid thing before i change my mind!"
And, without adding another word, Morr stormed off.
Gargant remained there, trying to understand what had just happened.
His eyes fell over the weapon that his brother had left strewn into the dust.
He frowned. So, all that had just happened had happened because…?
He scratched his ear, then, with a sigh, he picked up the staff.
Clutching it into his paws, he scuttled behind his brother, deciding that it was better to stop him from running into other dead-things than remaining there to think about strange things. Something told him that he wouldn't find an answer, anyway. Still, he wondered vaguely if his brother was crazy, and, if so, he would have to start to get used to having him crying his eyes off against him.
It was starting to become a habit.
Yeah, better play it safe.
"Hey, bro, are you crazy?"
"Piss off!"
Well, at least that was expected.