"Sage, and frankinscence is somewhere in the stores I'm sure, and we surely can't have used all the sandalwood – thank the One God there's a new regime or the restocking requests would have had me thrown to the Fires for frivolous use – " Chandric, the priest who had so welcomed them to Almondale, still showed no sign of regretting that welcome even as he muttered his way through a list of supplies needed for the spiritual purification of an entire settlement and potentially a full mining complex.
An acolyte was scribbling down all the things he mentioned, the young woman's eyes wide with something verging on terror but still leavened with a heady rush of excitement. That wouldn't last long, Anur knew, nursing yet-another mug of tea. Within the next few days – depending on which of the more remote settlements had fallen victim to these witach – she'd probably be losing her lunch behind a snowbank and swearing off all excitement ever.
Kir was sitting back in his own chair, subtly propping himself up with angles and edges so he looked like he were entirely alert when really he probably wished he could indulge in Anur's half-sprawled posture. Koshiro and Kalesh weren't quite as boneless but they were certainly slumping, especially now that they no longer needed to give horrifically-unsubtle glowers at anyone who eyed Kir sidelong.
Probably entirely counterproductive, given their goal was to keep people from shying away from Kir, but a nice sentiment at least.
:Surprised you're farming this job out,: Anur commented, letting his eyes slide half-shut as he kept an eye on things.
:If we didn't have a damn good idea this was a precursor to a coup, I wouldn't,: Kir replied shortly, mind-voice wrapped in sharp edges and anger. :But we have to get moving – purifying the town is going to be a days long project, if not weeks. We simply can't spare that kind of time.:
:Chandric seems competent enough, and more than willing to listen even more importantly.:
:He nearly lost half his congregation to monsters out of legend,: Kir replied dryly, some of the anger burning under his words subsiding to a background roar, :And we killed it. So yes, he is most certainly willing to listen. How's the headache?:
:Basically gone – I've done that much weight before, but with slow build-up so it wasn't as bad as it could have been. How are we tracking these bastards?:
:Using the taint of the bishra and a map of Karse for some simplistic scrying. It'll get us the right region at least – since blood-magic is so rare, detecting the stain with a map will be enough for us to get an idea of their location, and then we can do a more detailed working when we get close.:
:Any supplies you need for that?:
:No, just one of our maps, some of the herbs from our kit for amplification, and a quiet space. Planned for before the dawn service, it shouldn't take long at all.:
:Good – I'm not waking up four marks fore dawn for that.:
:Half a mark before the service, at least.:
:I'll hold you to that.:
***===***pagebreak***===***
Half a mark was a bit of an overestimation. Kir had woken up a full mark before dawn, simply unable to sleep any longer, so had just lain there, reciting simple prayers and listening to Anur breathe. By the time a half-mark had rolled around, Anur had woken up as well, grumbling about cursed dawn worship services and how so much of Karse was explained by constant sleep deprivation and never enjoying the luxury of sleeping in.
Kir had simply rolled his eyes at the familiar rant and set to spreading out the map on the floor of the cramped room they were sharing. Holding down the corners with candle holders and spare knives, he dug around in the kit Synia Greves had gifted him with – by now restocked at least twice with the more commonly used items – and pulled out a bare dusting of each of the necessary herbs and resins. This wouldn't take much.
"So, is this going to be like that world-half-removed vision with the Hardornen ghosts?" Anur asked, covering a yawn.
"Ah – sort of. It will be focused on the map, but you may see traces of the surrounding area too," Kir shrugged, "I can't say I've used this method recently. I tracked Furies with this in my first years in the 62nd, but rather quickly learned how to sense them out without elaborate preparations."
"Are you going to get to that point with blood-magic?"
"I think I'm already there," Kir grimaced, "At least for a similar sized region as the dead-zone. There's a reason I suggested they head for Peak's Town first."
"Hopefully it doesn't broaden anymore," Anur said, "Otherwise you'll start picking up on Ancar's mess."
Kir shuddered at the idea before settling on his knees next to the map, Anur mirroring his position with a graphite stick in hand. They weren't sure if he'd be able to see the world as Kir would without Aelius in physical contact, but he'd still be able to mark the map where Kir indicated if he couldn't.
Cupping his hands around the mix of scents, Kir raised his hands to his face and exhaled slowly, using that breath to fan the flames he sparked, letting his eyes slide half-shut as he inhaled the curling smoke. When he felt his invoked mage-sight shift, he let the crumbling ashes scatter across the map as he opened his eyes, looking down at the now vibrant paper.
"That's amazing," Anur murmured, apparently able to see things this way again, and he reached down to point at a pulsating black and red rot in the middle of the mountains, "Peak's Town, I'm guessing?"
"Quite," Kir said grimly, watching how the colors shifted and pulsed with the rhythm of Karse's natural energy. The blood-magic stain, deepest in Peak's Town, left streaks and spots trailing down the mountainside, a mark in the mines fading even as they watched. Good – the bishra was definitely dead, and definitely alone.
More critically for them though, it painted skittering lines down the flanks of the range and into the stark desert of twisted stone and chasms directly north of the Morningrays, while another, fainter trace cut across the mountains to the southeast, to the fatlands. Two traces – they didn't have time to split the party either – he'd have to see if Kari could get the headings to Solaris, perhaps she could get some scriers to attempt to see one or both of them. She had to have some that she trusted – at the worst, they'd be able to see if Devek's Father Calais would try it, he obviously had some talent for the art.
But he wanted to get a visual confirmation on the darker path, before the multiple mages that made that party split once more. If he had a visual to focus on, even a brief glimpse of the witach in question, he'd be able to track them much more accurately.
Actually, if he had a clear look at them, he should be able to rework the Oathbreaker rite – he'd rather not, because even though they most certainly deserved it, he did not particularly care for the dazed barely-remembered hunt that followed, but it was an option.
Politics curse it all. Were Solaris' regime not in need of this coup, in need of crushing this opposition, Riva and Aelius could set their hardest pace and he'd have at least one party of witach burned by tonight with the other soon to follow. But they'd discussed it, Solaris had prayed over it, and the decision had been made.
His judgement was trusted, but right now he had his burning orders.
Sunlord be thanked he'd been able to keep this burden from the other Firestarters. He had survived apolitically for years – it was only right that he take this for them now. They deserved a chance to exercise their flames, regain their ground, without concern for the politics of the matter.
If they were presented with a true witch, one of Witach's Brood, they should be able to burn it to ash immediately, no questions asked.
"Hey," Anur murmured, hand wrapping around the back of his neck and tilting his head foreward so their foreheads rested against one another over the marked up map. "We'll get these bastards, Kir."
"After how many dead?" Kir asked tiredly, "How many innocents are going to suffer and die because we delay, because we refrain from destroying them the moment we spot them?"
"A lot," Anur said bluntly, not bothering to soften things and Kir was unspeakably grateful for that fact, "Too many, especially when I consider lightning-deaths, Cats that can teleport, and the fact that right now, at this very damned minute, some witach are probably have a damn good chuckle over some screaming sod, feeling very smug and invincible. Wars suck. Civil war revolutions suck even worse, and there's not a damn thing we can do about it because there's fucking religion involved."
"Please, tell me how you really feel," Kir said after a few moments silence, something in that rant bringing dry, black, and probably twisted humor to the surface. He couldn't disagree with a single word, and it was his 'fucking religion' that was involved.
"Oh shut up," Anur snorted, sitting back on his heels. "Karse is wonderful, feels more like home every day, but there are times when theocratic rule leaves a heck of a lot to be desired and I'm quite happy to be a godless heathen."
Kir hesitated, wavered over this truth, but nonetheless murmured, "Some days, I can see the appeal."
"Yeah," Anur sighed, humor fading from him as well, "Yeah. I suppose you would. Some days, I wish I were a bit more of one."
They stared at the map in silence for a time, nothing in the silence feeling awkward or heavy with anything beyond a duty they didn't care for, until the summoning bell rang.
Because of all things to close that conversation, calmly heading for a dawn service in a village they'd saved from breath-stealing monsters even as others suffered and died at the hands of those responsible really said all that needed to be.
***===***pagebreak***===***
It was impossible to remain grimly focused all the time. For some years, Kir had managed to do damn near close and those years had been depressing in the extreme.
Knowing that, it still seemed almost wrong that there was laughter and cheerful taunts echoing in the still air. They'd gotten an early start, riding out immediately after the packed Sun Ascending service and heading northeast. Between terrain and the fact that not all their mounts were so sure-footed as Aelius and Riva, even with careful route planning it was likely they would be playing catch-up with the witches for a few days at least.
Once they were out of sight of the village, Aelius had taken the lead with Kir following behind – between his sure-footedness and Kir's map they shouldn't get too off course or crippled by poor footing, which was a definite risk in these parts, even with the hobnails. But as they were all on foot for this first pass crossing, horses trailing behind aside from the Companion, progress was necessarily slow – and slow progress lent more time for rather gloomy thoughts as to what they would find at the end of this.
Anur had allowed the dour silence to hold for a half-mark before pelting Devek in the back of the head with a snowball, which had led to the current state of affairs.
Kir grinned, not worried about any of those in snowy combat seeing him, again checking their progress on the map. If they'd made the progress he and Aelius thought they had, they should be at the other side of this high-altitude pass within a mark or so and beginning their descent. Time enough for their fun to be put aside later.
"Ha! Witch-powers for the win, again!" Anur whooped, Kir looking over his shoulder briefly and chuckling despite himself.
Anur had failed to mention that he had prior experience with using his Fetching in snowball fights, so his seemingly gracious concession to let the two of them team up while he used his Gift had been anything but.
"Koshiro – we need to rethink our strategy," Jakyr groaned, sitting up from where he had dived behind a snowbank to avoid Anur's return volley. That strategy hadn't been particularly thought-through either, given he'd ended up even more coated in snow that way.
"Plot all you like!" Anur called cheerfully, tromping towards Kir, "I'll still win!"
Koshiro shook his fist at him, scarf hiding the grin his squinting eyes betrayed before he hauled Jakyr to his feet and they started muttering as they walked. Kir shook his head as Anur reached him, saying, "I'll say it again. You are a cheat."
"That's the talk of a loser if I've ever heard one," Anur sniffed, mock-haughtiness vanishing to a more serious mein and he continued, "Any traces?"
"Faint ones," Kir grimaced, crossing his arms and trying to shrug deeper into his coat. "Peak's Town and the bishra traces could account for them, but there is some directional shifting so the source is moving over time, so it's more likely the mages themselves."
"And for you to sense it in discrete bursts like that – you think they're practicing it now," Anur echoed his tone, hunching into his own coat.
"I do," Kir sighed, "And even if we were to actually do something when we got there, the pace we're keeping is necessitated by terrain, it won't do anyone any good if we fall to our deaths up here or lame a horse – and I asked Kari before we left Sunhame, he can't go somewhere he hasn't been before if there's nothing he's familiar with to serve as an ancho – ach!" he spun, hand thrown out and the snowballs flying towards him quickly vanished into fire and steam.
"Ah… sorry sir!" Jakyr called, voice choked even as he hid a snow-covered collapsible shovel behind his back, "We… ah – barrages are difficult?"
"Take that witch-powers!" Devek cackled at the same moment, quickly halting his victory gestures and adding, "Ah – apologies, Father Kir."
"We're… defending Karse's honor?" Jakyr offered, carefully edging behind his friend and technical superior officer. Kir finally broke, rolling his eyes and smiling as he shook his head, "At least your plotting was more successful this round."
Anur slowly turned around at long last, his back entirely coated in snow thanks to the far more successful attack on the part of the Lieutenants and he glowered at them. "I have snow dripping down the back of my neck you jerks!"
"Haha!" Devek cried gleefully, pointing at Anur and all faint traces of embarrassment at nearly getting Kir at the same time vanished, "We win!"
"You were rather asking for it," Kir chuckled, Anur giving him a betrayed look that quickly shifted to narrow-eyed speculation. Kir abruptly stopped laughing and said, "Oh no – no don't you – "
"For Valdemar!" Anur bellowed, tackling him into the nearest snowdrift, Kir yelping, "Herald!" and spluttering as he was soon buried in snow, Anur snickering as he rolled off of him.
Kir blinked up at the grey-blue sky and couldn't help but laugh, even though he was now covered in snow that would undoubtedly soak through soon enough, even though he was walking towards witches he was under orders to leave be. Anur was still snickering as he stood and offered Kir a hand; he shoved his other hand into the snow for added leverage – it would be a simple matter to yank Anur down into the snow again –
The moment his hand reached frozen soil, the world was torn asunder.
"Kir! Kir!" Anur's voice rang in his ears and he shook his head, gasping for breath and realizing he was now standing, Anur holding him upright, "Kir – back with us? Are you all right?"
Kir could hear his ragged breathing, could hear the worried queries from the soldiers, but the sheer mass of screams drowned them out.
Drowned everything out.
He had chosen Anur over Solaris' orders before. This wasn't that far of a stretch.
:Witch-horse!: he barked, yanking free of Anur's hold and throwing himself into the white and false-black horse's saddle, :I'm calling in that debt you owe me – get me there.:
:With pleasure, witch-hunter.:
"Are you kidding me right now?" Anur's indignant shouts were left behind.
They would catch up.
