Hearing relieved shouts when you return from an evening out was not the most reassuring of welcomes, Devek thought dryly even as he swung down off his horse and looked to the Sunsguard closest to him. "What is all the shouting about, Ensign?"
"A rider came in for you sir, urgent message but it's not looking good," the man reported shortly, "He's in the infirmary, I can take your horse."
"My thanks," Devek replied automatically, heading for the infirmary at a run. Everyone already knew what was going on, it wasn't like he'd cause any more of a panic with his speed.
Entering the infirmary, he immediately honed in on the only occupied cot, their corpsman lurking beside the still figure with a constant litany of curses indicating it wasn't going well. Hearing him approach, the man looked up with a scowl that, if anything, got fiercer when he was recognized.
"About damn time you got here!" the only other Senior Lieutenant in the unit snapped, jerking his head towards his patient. "Patrol found him staggering towards the walls, horse was nearly foundered. Managed to say he had an urgent message for you before he went out, hasn't spoken a word since, even when he has seemed lucid."
Devek sank onto a stool beside the cot, recognizing the man immediately. Lieutenant Jakyr Kalesh had transferred into the 62nd with him and transferred out soon after he had. By the end of their first few moons in that bizarre northward unit they'd been good friends, much less after years of watching each other's backs and ending up neck deep in conspiracy.
"You know him," the corpsman's tone gentled, because as much as he was a caustic ass most of the time, he was a very good medic and somehow managed to retain his compassion.
"We served in the 62nd together," Devek said blankly, reaching out and touching the knotwork Sun-in-Glory medallion resting on Jakyr's chest. It was a near twin to the one he wore around his own neck, and he wouldn't be surprised if every old hand of the 62nd had such a sigil somewhere on their person.
Their priest had made them, after all.
"His packs are on the table there, no one's gone through them yet," Gerlach grimaced, "So look through them fast and tell me if there's any clue as to what in the hells this is, I don't recognize it at all."
Devek opened the messenger bag first, finding a heavily notated map and a small notebook filled with cramped shorthand and a carefully folded list of names. Aside from that, there was only a scroll authorizing his actions on patrol in the name of the 42nd Cavalry – with the actionable dates having passed almost a week ago. Jakyr would be on the lists as a deserter by now then.
Unfolding the map, he pulled the oil lamp closer and examined it carefully; the 42nd was stationed in the Morningray Mountains, monitoring the roads to Vieldorf and the logging and mining settlements to the southwest. Jakyr's patrol route must have been in there, and for him to have come all the way out here, well into the Oakrichs, there were really only a few things that could have driven him this far.
And one of them was written in graphite next to a small town on the far reaches of Jakyr's possible patrol region.
"Bishra," he muttered, feeling his expression tighten and grow grim. He had gotten a crash course in monsters courtesy the twins and Father Kir, and apparently that knowledge had been dessimated to the rest of the transfers by the time Jakyr left.
"What was that?" Gerlach barked, "You know what this is?"
"I do," he said grimly, folding the map and tucking it into his vest. "Do you have any sage?"
"Sage?" the man raised an eyebrow, "Of course. He supposed to drink it?"
"However you can give it," Devek stood, "Incense, tea, whatever you can manage. Drink some yourself too. And burn some sandalwood."
"I'm not the chaplain," the corpsman snorted, digging through his kit, "No sandalwood incense in here, that's another branch of curing."
"Then I'll grab some from him," Devek said shortly, heading for the door, "That's where I'm going next."
Not for sandalwood, though he'd grab some while he was there. No, he was hoping that this particular chaplain would be along the lines of the 54th – one that had a backdoor communication line to Sunhame. Solaris had come into power this Midwinter, and if her and Father Kir's correspondence was any indication, Father Kir was going to be in Sunhame helping her secure her Ascent. If he wasn't, then at least Her Eminence would know blood mages were in Karse.
He wouldn't be surprised if these particular blood-mages were of Karse.
Summoners had just lost their most fearsome power, after all. And blood-mages had spawned when cruel men were denied their old avenues of power.
"Father Calais," he called, unsurprised to find the middle-aged man sitting in the sacristy with a mug of tea and a copy of the Writ. Devek still thought it was more likely he'd swapped covers with some novels so he looked more pious – because the man was always reading the Writ, and while it was an important and occasionally beautiful text, there were only so many times one man could read the same words over and over again without going mad.
"Senior Lieutenant," the man blinked at him, clearly surprised and apparently his expression was rather forbidding, as he hesitantly continued, "Can I help you…?"
"I certainly hope so," Devek said, inclining his head slightly and trying to refrain from snapping at the man. He was a good chaplain, and if he hadn't ever served with Father Kir, he'd find the man a great one, but his standards were a fair bit higher now, and not seeing the chaplain training alongside the men or working with the corpsman after every fight, watching as his robes retained their shine and cleanliness even as their own uniforms grew worn and patched as resupply approached – well. It made for a different experience.
"Do you have a means of communicating with Sunhame promptly?" he asked bluntly, "The messenger that came for me carries reports of blood-magic to the east, and I would have that message relayed as soon as possible."
"Blood-magic?" Calais raised an eyebrow, closing his book and setting it aside, sounding more confident but his wary expression belied it, "I suppose you consider yourself an expert on such matters?"
"Nowhere near, that is why I need you to call on one such," Devek refuted, baiting the hook with, "Feel free to use my name and shove off responsibility for the call on me, I simply need a message to get through promptly and I know you priests have means beyond our messengers."
And never make them available unless your politics stand to gain, he thought rather uncharitably, and had to consciously remind himself that this was the way of things. That what he had grown used to was a one-in-a-million series of coincidences and he really couldn't hold the rest of the Sunsguard, the rest of Karse, to that standard.
He'd been reminding himself of that on a near daily basis since he'd begun with the 35th.
Investigations for Father Kir aside, the only reason he'd remained sane was the hope that he'd be promoted to Captain and could move back north again.
Calais gave him a thoughtful once-over before finally nodding slowly and saying, "Very well. What is the message, and who is it for?"
"The message is for Kir Dinesh, First Order Firestarter, and if he is unavailable, Her Eminence Solaris," Devek said flatly, ignoring the man's incredulous expression and continuing, "The message is that there are bishra in Almondale, with one present in the 35th and any assistance would be appreciated. My full name is Devek Koshiro, should the message need to go to Her Eminence, mentioning my former association with the 62nd would be advised. Now, do you have any sandalwood incense?"
"Cupboard on the left, be sparing with it – it's expensive," the man said shortly, rising to his feet and heading for a separate set of cupboards, pulling out an etched stone bowl and small jars of what Devek would guess were scented oils. Not as simple as the Herald's mental speaking then; maybe with the Fires redefined at last, in a few generations they could have their own mental communication network across the nation. That would be a talent worth cultivating!
He took three cones of the incense; hopefully it would be enough. Right now they were just stalling it, keeping the creature from spreading. Killing the wretch wasn't something he felt confident doing; if it were at all possible, he'd wait for an expert.
But if he had to, he'd try.
Jakyr would make an excellent second in command, should they ever go north again.
***===***pagebreak***===*
Kir rubbed at his temples while Anur made some tea; they were the only ones in the kitchen at this late hour, the other Firestarters were all still exhausted from their three days of arguing and had retired soon after their second Sun Descending service together was concluded. He was tired as well, they both were, but they also hadn't had a moment to themselves the entire day and to go from being almost entirely isolated to being surrounded by people that wanted and even needed to speak to him all day was a major change.
Definitely not an entirely welcome one either.
Anur snickered and slid a mug over to him before throwing himself into the old armchair he'd chosen – they had pulled comfortable chairs out of a storage room across the hall and claimed a tiny end-table in a corner of the kitchen as their new evening lurking spot. By remaining in the kitchen, they were technically making themselves available if anyone needed to find them quickly, after all. And it wasn't like the chairs were being used for anything else anyway.
"Something amusing?" Kir asked tiredly, raising his mug before taking a sip, "I could use the laugh."
"Karchanek's face!" Anur gasped, dissolving into half-hysterical laughter that he muffled in his sleeve, sending a mental image – exaggerated slightly, but still remarkably accurate – along with it. Kir snorted into his tea and let out a reluctant laugh of his own.
Karchanek, a powerful Priest-Mage that Solaris had been raised beside and trusted explicitly, had the misfortune of being the first truly blonde individual Riva had caught sight of today. Apparently Aelius' plan had required Riva literally attempting to attack the first blonde person he saw, as it was such a rare hair color in Karse, Kir not mentioning or knowing about that particular prejudice wouldn't be considered too suspicious. Aelius, in the meantime, had played up their partnership and followed Riva's lead, scaring a few decades out of the various stablehands and seriously alarming Karchanek.
But the expression Anur was remembering hadn't come into play until after Kir and Anur had arrived, summoned by Aelius' gleeful cackles but telling everyone they were just doing their usual morning check-in with their horses. Smoothing that mess over hadn't been helped at all by Aelius' mental chortles and cheers about how wonderfully his plan had gone.
The stablemaster respectfully suggesting they "snip some of that orneriness out of him" had at least silenced that distraction. Unfortunately, Anur's mental hysterics had more than made up for that newfound quiet.
Needless to say, Karchanek had not been particularly impressed by their claims that Riva had been traumatized by a blonde person sometime in the past – the story had somehow never gotten to the point of details, thank the One God, though they'd need to invent some eventually – and therefore the horse now held a grudge the size of Vkandis' Image. Aelius' partnering and near rabid enthusiasm for defending said partner had been brushed aside as a mix between extreme herd-mate devotion and typical stallion orneriness, hence the stablemaster's well-meaning suggestion.
Shaking his head, Kir finally said, "That is going to come back to bite us, I'm afraid."
Anur snorted, "What, he's going to hold a grudge against us because our horses don't like him? If he's going to act like that, wouldn't want to be too close with him anyway. Ridiculous."
"Well we're going to have to be. Solaris is probably going to appoint him as one of her Heirophants so soon enough, those meetings we have with her are going to become council sessions, at least some of the time. And he'll be there," Kir sighed heavily, "We're going to have to smooth things over with him."
Anur scoffed again, shaking his head and saying, "No. If he's going to be stupid about this and hold a grudge against us because of a mistake made with our horses – a mistake we weren't even around until it was resolved, mind! – then forget him. We can work with him without getting along particularly well, we're not going to apologize for something like that. Offer sincere regrets it happened, sure, but we owe him no debt, there's nothing to smooth over."
Kir just shook his head. While he and Karchanek ran in different circles, and would hopefully remain running in different circles for most of their duties, he had a feeling that this incident was going to at least taint their interactions in the future, if not truly sour. Anur had a point, true, but he didn't want to create any more difficulties in Sunhame than he already had, and unfortunately Karchanek could prove to be a very big one. Hopefully it wouldn't come to that, but it was still a possibility he couldn't discount.
:My apologies,: Aelius murmured in their minds, sounding honestly remorseful, :If I'd realized his rank I would have signaled someone different, but his hair color was so unusual that it really was the perfect chance insofar as insulating you from the backlash.:
:And I understand that, I really do,: Kir took a stiff swig of tea and half-heartedly considered digging out a flask of prodka – in his boot, naturally – continuing, :And if I had thought to tell the stablehands you were testy battlesteeds and to just leave your tending to us, none of this would have been necessary. I slipped up and you covered as best you could – we'll simply have to deal with any repercussions as they come.:
:I mean, getting into the stablemaster's good books would be easy enough,: Anur smirked over the rim of his mug, :Up for a little operation, Aelius?:
:Try it and I'll show you all just how we got the name Hellhorse!: Aelius screeched back, panic turning his snarl into something significantly higher pitched, Kir laughing at the Companion's tone. Anur grinned and continued his teasing, saying, :Now really, Aelius. No one would ever suspect you of being a White Demon then! This could mean the difference between me and another four days of painful hospitality!:
:Ha! You're on your own there, Chosen. If it comes down to that, I'm out of here. Kir can save you, I'm sure. Perhaps recruit Kari or Hansa to the cause, but I'll be halfway to the border by then.:
:Oh, I see where I rate! Right below a good time with a ma - :
"Your Incandesence!" Kavrick burst into the kitchen and Kir quickly straightened, setting his mug aside and Anur and Aelius immediately stopped teasing each other. "An urgent message relayed from the Sunsguard!"
"By whom?" Kir asked, rising to his feet and spotting a black-robe hovering in the background – a very familiar black-robe at that. "Ah, Brother Loshern. You received a message from the Sunsguard?" he felt entirely justified in his clear skepticism – the man had clearly not had good experiences with the Sunsguard, so having contacts within them that he trusted made no sense.
"Through a friend posted as a chaplain, yes," the exorcist stepped forward and clapped a hand to Kavrick's shoulder, sharing a nod with the Firestarter before focusing back on Kir, "I received a scrying call from a year-mate of mine, Calais. He is posted with the 35th and was cornered by the second in command who strongly suggested he use whatever means he had at his disposal to contact Sunhame and get a message to you. Calais passed it along but it's rather certain he didn't actually believe it – "
Kir raised an eyebrow and Loshern cut himself off, inhaling slowly before saying, "Apologies. A message for you or Her Eminence if you were unavailable. Bishra are in Almondale, and one victim is within the 35th. Any assistance is appreciated."
All his tiredness vanished and he heard Anur jump to his feet with a curse, saying, "I'll grab our gear, you get the horses?"
"No time for that, not if its bishra – and the primary isn't within the 35th, Almondale would get its name from the crops, and almonds are out in the Morningray foothills for the most part. That means whoever's caught one of those things has been traveling for at least a day or two, they won't have much longer. Blast!" Kir kept his more ardent curses behind his teeth, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to figure out a way to cut a day-long ride down by at least half.
:Kari says he can help,: Anur relayed quickly, coming up to stand beside him and the Firecat in question appeared on the counter nearby, leaping into Anur's ready arms. :Physical contact is necessary,: he relayed again, :And this may be nauseating.:
Kir wrapped an arm around Anur's shoulders and tangled his other hand in Kari's fur, looking to Kavrick and a clearly awe-struck Loshern and nodding shortly, "My thanks for relaying the message. Kavrick, kindly tell the others I will be back as soon as I can, and if someone could be spared to escort Rodri to the forges tomorrow if we do not make it back in time, that would be appreciated."
Before they could reply, the world vanished into flames and went silent – the only hums of latent flame he could hear were his own, Anur's and Kari's and there was a brief moment of disorienting panic before the flames vanished from his gaze, world snapping back into place but off for a few moments as faint imprints of what he remembered hearing were consumed by what was actually there. Not nauseating, not quite, but he could see how it would be.
Anur apparently felt it, grumbling and looking a little pasty before shaking it off and letting Kari leap down from his arms.
A choking sound drew their eyes to their right – apparently Kari had brought them to the 35th's chapel and the priest who had relayed the message had caught sight of their arrival from the sacristy door. Nodding to the black-robe, he stepped down from the altar's dias and asked, "Brother Calais?"
The man nodded, seemingly unable to decide which of the three of them to stare at first.
Rather than try and get further information out of the man, Kir looked to Kari, raising an eyebrow, and the Cat nodded before trotting out of the building. Anur fell into step beside him and murmured, "Bishra – those were the voice and breath stealers, yes?"
"Precisely," Kir replied shortly. "As Devek is undoubtedly the one who sent the message, they'll hopefully have begun isolation and incense based therapies but these ones can be tricky to kill, especially when the source is elsewhere."
"Right, these are the pack monsters," Anur made a face, "I now know the hunting patterns for witach fueled monsters better than I know the ones for standard predators. Fantastic."
"Well really, how often have you needed to track wolves or mountain cats?" Kir smiled wryly, "With our jobs, knowledge of witach's brood has actually proven more useful."
"Which says a lot about our life choices," Anur said, voice dry.
"Little of it sane," Kir replied in kind, nodding to Kari, who had stopped at the door to what was hopefully the infirmary, and swept inside. It was practically identical to the 62nd's, as anticipated, if a little less careworn and patched together around the edges. Seeing two familiar faces in the room only made the resemblance that much stronger.
It didn't quite feel like coming home, but it was comfortingly familiar.
Anur definitely had a point about their life choices.
"Father Kir!" Koshiro looked up and was clearly startled, but relief seemed to drown out any questions he might have had about their quick arrival. The corpsman had no such restraint however, and yelped as he spotted them, jumping to his feet and whirling to face them, demanding, "How in the – there were no riders coming in!"
"And we didn't ride," Kir replied shortly, waving in Kari's direction, "The Honorable Kari was able to provide transport. When was he last lucid?"
"A little under a mark," the corpsman replied promptly, jerking his gaze from Kari and regaining some of his composure, "Seems to be coming back out of it though, after this incense treatment started. What exactly is this… bishra?"
"Are you familiar with the Witach's Brood rhyme?" Anur asked, taking over explaining things to the clearly out of his depth but competent corpsman while Kir went to Koshiro's side and murmured, "Are you all right?"
"Much better now that I don't have to figure out how to get a message to Sunhame and figure out where you are, sir," Koshiro smiled ruefully, "Calais was something of a long-shot, but he's done some rites that seemed a little…enhanced, so I thought there was at least a chance."
"More than one," Kir nodded, "His contact was Loshern."
Koshiro stared at him flatly, saying, "No."
"Oh yes," Kir chuckled, looking down at the infected and sighing, sitting down on the stool by the man's bedside and murmuring, "Lieutenant Jakyr Kalesh. What were you doing to have a bishra latch onto you?"
He didn't wait for an answer, reaching out to rest a hand on the man's forehead and another over his heart, slipping into mage-sight with the ease of long practice. Inhaling deeply, the scent of sandalwood and sage shifted things, allowing him to focus less on enchantments – of which there were a surprising amount embedded into the building – and more on the man fighting in front of him.
And it was definitely a fight. While the lothga kept its victims unaware of what was truly happening to them, bishra did not. They were hive-minded creatures, the primary commanding the others and drawing strength from those that were brought to it. The very fact that Jakyr had made it this far with that twisted rot that was lurking in his lungs spoke rather eloquently for his determination and mental strength.
As well as his pain tolerance, if the blackened score marks in his lungs' energy networks were any indication.
Grabbing one of the sandalwood incense cones he quickly broke a piece off and then grabbed a pinch of the dried sage Devek had carefully ringed the burners with. It was good to see his quick lessons on those of Witach's Brood had been taken to heart – and Koshiro had only had a crash course, much less exposure than those who had gone through the second long winter. Hopefully, no one else would need it, but at least it seemed the knowledge had been retained.
Cupping his hands around incense and herbs, he drew them to his face and exhaled slowly, increasing the heat through his hands and with his breath so they began to smoke. He could have done this with the smoke already available, true, but by igniting it himself, he strengthened his own connection to the rite and at this point, he'd take every aid he could get. This was one of the more dangerous methods of release – bishra were killed when the primary source was destroyed. Forcibly removing the individual creatures from those infected was considerably more dangerous as the things could cause further harm by metaphorically digging in their heels and draw on strength from their brethren to make it even more challenging.
Hopefully distance would minimize that latter possibility, but still.
Anur took the stool across from him and said shortly, "Managed to get a silk scrap, salted and now saturated with incense. Whenever you're ready Kir."
Kir nodded, closing his eyes for a moment and sinking deeper into that world half-removed, opening his eyes as he inhaled the sage-scented sandalwood smoke, holding it in his mouth and allowing the ashes to scatter. He could still remember the snickers that had circled the room when this particular expelling method had bene taught – even their master had found it amusing in a juvenile sort of way.
Then he had been taught the medical version again when he insisted on making himself useful to the corpsman before Janner, and it had lost all humor after he'd had to breathe for a man one harsh winter.
Tilting Jakyr's head back to open his throat, he pinched the man's nose and waited for him to begin an inhale, quickly placing his mouth over his and exhaling sharply, pushing the scented and blessed smoke into his lungs. Pulling back immediately, he still almost got his nose broken when Jakyr spasmed into coughs, an inky black smoke at first trickling, then pouring out of his mouth and nose, a hair-raising hiss echoing in the room. "Come on, Jakyr," Devek murmured and Kir could feel Anur tensing, ready to cut off the wretch's avenue of return the moment Kir gave the signal, but the thing's core was still within his lungs.
"Come along now, almost there," he muttered, catching him on his next spasming cough and pulling the lieutenant upright, waving more incense into his face – not exactly the most efficient method, but they needed to finish this before the smoke in his lungs dissipated entirely – before striking him on the back as if he were choking.
That dislodged the core, the final tar-like residue splattering into the salted silk Anur held for just that purpose and Kir quickly flared the edges of the fabric into flame and wrapped it into an orb of swirling orange and white, heat radiating as the smoke of the wraith was pulled in when the creature's core drew it's own strength into itself in a vain attempt to escape the fire.
Jakyr was still coughing occasionally, but was breathing and conscious, so Kir kept his focus on the fragment of a monster he was destroying until both his own sense of the creature's buzz and his half-removed mage-sight registered it dead and gone. Releasing the flames, he blinked a few times as his gaze settled back into the usual perception of the world, sharing a quick, reassuring are-you-all-right, fine-yourself look with Anur before focusing on the misplaced Sunsguard Lieutenant they'd just managed to save.
"Can you breathe deeply for me, Lieutenant?" he asked briskly, the man nodding and giving a weak cough before obeying, lungs seeming to work smoothly again except for the occasional spluttering over the smoke. That would pass with time.
The corpsman was muttering curse-mixed prayers to the Sunlord and Kir felt his lips twitch at a few of the more creative ones. He was sincere, at least, even if his wording left a bit to be desired.
"Jakyr," Devek sighed in relief, pulling the other man into a quick embrace and shaking his head, "I was worried, you jackass. What in the hells were you thinking, coming all the way here?"
"I was thinking," the man rolled his eyes, voice raspy from disuse but very much present, "That I had no means to get to Sunhame and by the time I made it there, I'd be listed as a deserter and probably unable to speak, so wouldn't get heard so much as chucked in the nearest cell for a few weeks, and by then, whatever bastards brought those things into Karse would be well-entrenched or long-gone, both fates that are too good for them."
"What, and you thought coming to me would help with that?" Koshiro demanded, sitting down on the edge of the cot while Jakyr shifted so he could lean back against the wall. The Lieutenant raised an eyebrow and then waved a hand at Kir and Anur, saying, "Well obviously, I was right. Father Kir, Lieutenant-Enforcer. It is good to see you, sirs. Thank you for coming."
"We could hardly ignore a message delivered via backdoor scrying channels through an exorcist from one once of the 62nd," Kir replied dryly, "I'm simply glad we were able to get here in time. You didn't have much longer before the thing would have taken all the air in your lungs."
Jakyr grimaced and rubbed at his chest in memory, nodding and saying reluctantly, "I didn't think I was going to make it anyway, sir. Just wanted to get the message to someone who could pass it on to the appropriate parties. My captain is… decent enough, but not exactly understanding of going any further than the exact letter of your orders."
"And what is the message?" Kir asked quietly, Kari leaping into Anur's lap and letting the Herald-Enforcer pet him, Jakyr's eyes bugging out at the second legend he'd encountered today but managing to reply, "Best if I show you, sir. Got that map, Devek?"
"Right here. And it doesn't look good, sir."
