"So," Sliske said. "You want to be a spy."
Wahisietel opened his eyes, and screamed.
Later he would say that it was a deliberately panicked call of alarm, in the hopes that it would demoralize the enemy and startle them in order to gain the advantage. Sliske would say that it was just a scream, but, Wahisietel would hasten to remind you, Sliske was not a trustworthy source.
Besides, the sight of Sliske leaning over your bed as you woke up, with a grin so wide it seemed to cover his whole face, would cause anyone to scream.
"What are you doing here?" Wahisietel asked after scrambling into an upright position, heart pounding wildly. Sliske seemed wholly unperturbed by his scream, except that the grin had softened into a mere ironic smile.
"You've missed your appointment." He glanced up at the windowed ceiling. "I've come to remind you."
Wahisietel swore as he followed Sliske's gaze to see the sun already high in the sky. He was supposed to be in the throne room by now. "Dagroda will kill me," he whispered.
Sliske continued to sit idly on the bed as Wahisietel flew out of it. He was still wearing his formal clothing denoting his status as Pontifex Maximus, but that would have to do for now. He was late enough as it was. He hoped that whoever was waiting in the throne room for him was not of an impatient sort, although, if it were anybody he knew personally, they probably were.
"So," Sliske continued as though nothing had changed. "What do you suppose our aristocratic friends have in store for you today?"
"Uh," Wahisietel said, mind wrenched out of an exponential spiral of panic by the question. "I don't have any idea." He looked around the house again for anything he might need, and figured that there was nothing besides an industrial strength shield that could be of any help to him.
Sliske only moved from his position on the bed to follow Wahisietel out of the house. In this part of the Upper District, there was not much traffic; it was a sunny day, and most of them had nothing to do. Further out, however, surrounding the palace, the people thronged. Wahisietel swore again.
"You know," Sliske said from behind Wahisietel, making him jump, "I could always pull us into the Shadow Realm and get us to the Palace in a matter of seconds."
It was a tempting offer, despite Wahisietel's dislike of Sliske's usual method of travel, but the prospect of some long-since eaten food he hadn't accounted for on the floor of the throne room was even less enticing than arriving late.
"Thanks, but I'll take the long way," he said.
Sliske drifted after him as Wahisietel hurried down the street, somehow managing to keep pace with the other Mahjarrat seemingly without exerting any effort. "So, you were sleeping," Sliske said he asked languidly.
Wahisietel's patience with his brother, despite being bolstered by Sliske waking him up in time to arrive to the meeting with any semblance of being on time, was already beginning to fray. "Yes," he said shortly.
"Why?" Sliske asked.
"I was tired," Wahisietel answered. He took a turn and found the gates to the palace grounds looming ahead of him.
"You wouldn't have needed to," Sliske said archly, as though he were implying something scandalous.
"Well, sometimes I want to," Wahisietel snapped.
He arrived at the gates out of breath. As he paused to get it back, Sliske came up behind him.
"You're very out of shape," he observed. "We'll have to work on that."
"What? Whatever," Wahisietel said. He muttered a few words under his breath and the gates swung open. The humans on shift looked up in surprise.
"Doors open!" he shouted at them. "Now!"
In their confusion, several attempted to open the doors at once; at last, the rest parted for one of them, who whispered the words hurriedly under her breath, and opened the doors.
Wahisietel whisked past her, Sliske following; the human looked as though she wanted to say something as Sliske passed her, but shut her mouth and turned back to her fellows.
As the doors closed behind him, Wahisietel knew he'd pay for that particular impropriety later. It didn't matter now, however, as he'd be paying for a different one as soon as he entered the throne room.
"So," Sliske said. "As an interested party, what exactly do you expect from this curriculum?"
"A fiery death," Wahisietel said as he began down the hallways. "To start with, I mean."
"Interesting," Sliske said.
The doors to the throne room loomed ahead of him, and he slowed for a second. He imagined a Chthonian demon waiting for him, growing hungrier by the moment, or Dagroda himself, and even a feverish nightmare of Zaros himself, come back from wherever he now resided solely to punish Wahisietel for his lateness.
With a sick feeling in his stomach, he opened the doors.
The room was empty.
Wahisietel stood at the threshold as Sliske brushed past him idly.
"Did they… leave?" Wahisietel asked.
"Yes," Sliske said, "but they're back now."
He seated himself in the middle of the room, just past the rows of seats meant for the audiences of the priest-king. He folded his legs and leaned forward, eying Wahisietel with an ironic look on his face.
"So," he said. "You want to be a spy."
Wahisietel blinked.
"Oh," he said. "You've got to be kidding me."
"Not at all," Sliske said.
"You could have told me."
"Well," Sliske said, the ironic look never leaving his face, "Where would the fun be there?" With that, he grabbed Wahisietel's arm and, before the other Mahjarrat had the time to scream, vanished into the Shadow Realm.
…
It was on a cliff near Silvarea, clouds high overhead and wind blowing fiercely, that Sliske and Wahisietel reappeared.
Wahisietel promptly stumbled off and coated a nearby rock with what once was the piéce de résistance of a royal feast.
Sliske observed as Wahisietel wheezed with nausea. "Huh," he said. "I remember that one. The duck was particularly well presented, and evidently you agreed."
"You're disgusting," Wahisietel said as his mind reeled. As it began to settle back in place, the gravity of the situation began to sink in. "You-!"
"I?"
"You've – where have you taken us?!"
Sliske studied his hand. "Somewhere that will suit our purposes." He looked up. "I hope I have not startled you too badly. A gibbering wreck would hardly be of use to me, or to himself, in this scenario."
The last of Wahisietel's mind fell into place. "What was the point of that, exactly? Leading me to the palace?"
"What is the point in anything I do, brother?"
Wahisietel considered this as Sliske wandered away to the edge of the cliff. Below him spread the canyon of Silvarea. In the distance, it disappeared into the mist. Wahisietel wondered if an army was already gathering there, in preparation for a war that would rend Senntisten by the roots.
"Dagroda chose you personally for this task," Sliske said, bringing Wahisietel's focus back to the present. "I expect your full attention, you know, if at all possible."
"Yes," Wahisietel said. "Yes, of course."
Sliske nodded slowly, and then turned back to face the canyon once again. Hesitantly, careful of every word, he began to speak in a tongue Wahisietel was not quite sure he understood.
"What are you doing?" the other Mahjarrat asked. Sliske ignored him, speaking into the mist.
As he spoke, the mist began to flow lazily towards Sliske's feet and coiled about them like a serpent. More followed, and soon Wahisietel's brow felt damp.
The mist began to retreat, but not into the canyon; it coalesced into the vague figures of five humans. It began to solidify and grow more detailed, and soon Wahisietel could see every detail in their armor.
The mist ceased its creative efforts, and once more resumed its place as a product of nature. The warriors turned their heads toward Wahisietel, regarding him, before they turned as one to face Sliske.
"Was that show with the mist strictly necessary?" Wahisietel said.
"Of course not. But it impressed you, I can tell."
Impressed wasn't the word Wahisietel would have used, but the sight of Sliske's stolen souls always moved something in him.
"These ones are new," Wahisietel said. He looked them over. "Who were they?"
"Just warriors I've borrowed," Sliske said dismissively. "They will suit our purposes well." He caught Wahisietel's eye, and sighed. "Does it matter?"
Wahisietel remained silent, continuing his examination of the warriors.
"They were draftees from a village in Morytania. A Saradominist expedition attacked, and they defended themselves with honor and great skill." He waved a hand over them. "Is that enough?"
Wahisietel nodded at this concession, and said no more on it. "What would our purposes be, exactly?"
Sliske grinned, shedding the old discussion and tensions with ease. "To teach you everything I know, brother. Trickery, deception, disguise. The family business, if you will. You'll need every bit of it if you're going to succeed."
"Not to flatter you, but I could never become as good a master of deception as you in…" he left the last part hanging, hoping Sliske would fill it in with the time he had left. Sliske just grimaced.
"Well, no, but you will become good enough to fool Saradominists and Zamorakians, which should be easy enough," he said. "Tuition refund guaranteed."
"I have to pay you?"
"Don't worry. Seeing you try to keep up will be payment enough." Sliske turned around to face the canyon once more. Eerily, his mist-warriors turned with him in unison. They were utterly silent.
Wahisietel was just about to speak when Sliske sighed aloud. It almost made him start. It seemed as though the presence of the warriors had sucked any ambient noise out of the air, although he knew that that notion was foolish.
"Do you know why you were chosen?" Sliske asked.
"No. Why?"
"I was asking you."
Wahisietel frowned. "You don't know?"
Sliske flinched as though the assertion physically hurt him. "It appears as though, this time, I… do not. Not yet, at any rate." He fidgeted. "I suspect that it has something to do with that Icyene. Her hat is in this ring somewhere."
"You don't know?"
"Shut up. I will know. Soon." He looked at Wahisietel slyly. "First, before we begin, I want to show you something."
"Will I be sickened, nauseous, angry, or otherwise distressed by it?" Wahisietel asked.
"Probably," Sliske said. "I was."
That silenced Wahisietel. If anything affected Sliske, it was something terrible indeed. "Where?" he asked.
"Further in the canyon." Sliske turned back to the fog enshrouding Silvarea. Wahisietel stepped up beside him, and tried to see what Sliske saw. Behind him, the warriors' eyes gleamed.
Sliske glanced at him. "So, are you ready?"
"Yes," he said, and they started into the mist.
…
It had been almost an hour, and Wahisietel was beginning to grow tired.
Normally, it was quite difficult for him to be physically weary, as it was for all Mahjarrat, but Silvarea was nothing if not treacherous, and the mist prevented him from seeing more than a few feet in front him.
Sliske seemed to be having no difficulties, however. Somewhere along the line, he had changed his shape, becoming a lanky human male who navigated the rocks and embankments with ease. Wahisietel had not done the same; being anything but himself had always made him feel vulnerable, although he would never admit so to Sliske, and this was the last place he wanted to feel less than at his best.
His brother abruptly vanished into the mist and did not reappear. Wahisietel stopped and searched for him, but Sliske was gone.
"Sliske?" he said. Silence greeted. He tried it again, louder this time. "Sliske?"
A gloved hand clapped over his mouth, stifling any further cries. "Quiet," Sliske hissed. "We're almost there."
He was still in human form and more than a foot shorter than Wahisietel, which made his position next to Wahisietel awkward. "Where did you go?" Wahisietel asked, forming the words carefully around his brother's hand.
"Nowhere important," Sliske said, removing his hand. "Follow me. And be-"
"Quiet, I know." Sliske glared at him, but started forward.
The ground flattened out as they continued, and Wahisietel thought he could hear the sound of the River Salve smashing against its banks in the distance. This, he knew, was where the mouth of the pass began to grow wider, and the land of Morytania, once known as Hollowvale, loomed nearer.
Sliske held up a hand, stopping them both. "This is good enough."
"For what?" Wahisietel asked.
As he had half expected, Sliske did not answer, but from behind him he could feel the coldness of the warriors approach. Instead of stopping behind them, they continued forward, appearing transparent and eerie beside them for a moment before vanishing entirely.
"Where are they going?" Wahisietel whispered.
"You'll see," Sliske said. "They'll go faster now without us to slow them down, and they won't be seen."
Seen by whom? Wahisietel wanted to ask, but realized the futility. "Why did we stop here?"
"A barrier," Sliske said. "No, that's not right. An alarm. Anything so drenched in magic as ourselves wouldn't get past without alerting someone."
This disturbed Wahisietel, but he shoved it out of his mind. "What about them?" Wahsietel jerked his head in the vague direction of the warriors.
"Why, brother," Sliske said, inclining his head, "I saw nothing but more mist go that way, didn't you?"
Wahsietel sighed.
For ten minutes they stood there in silence. The mist began to wear heavily on Wahisietel, and he hoped that whatever Sliske wanted to show him would appear soon. It would be hard enough as it was now to get the water out of his clothing.
Sliske did not speak to Wahisietel, but studied the mist in front of him as though he could see into it. And, Wahisietel thought, maybe he could. There was enough about Sliske that he didn't know, even now. Cat-like vision would be far from the most surprising thing about him.
Abruptly, the mist swirled, and the warriors once again stood in front of them. Wahisietel stifled a yelp, but he thought that Sliske could hear it as clear as day anyway.
"Well done," Sliske said softly. "Did you do as I required?"
One of the five, the largest, knelt down in front of his master as answer. They seemed to have grown even more solid to Wahisietel than before, and he thought he could see the remnants of a muscular figure, conditioned by a life of war.
"Brother," Sliske said, "place your hand on his head."
"What?" Wahisietel cried, momentarily forgetting the rule of silence until Sliske slashed his finger across his throat aggressively. "Why?" he hissed, quieter but forceful.
"Because I said so," Sliske hissed back. "You will understand once you do it."
Wahisietel could feel his own fear acutely, but even he knew there was no logical basis for it. He would not be hurt by this warrior. Still, the thought of touching this once-breathing shadow was repulsive. Besides, he had been burned before by Sliske's idea of a trick.
He took Sliske's place in front of the warrior, who had remained utterly immobile throughout the conversation, staring single-mindedly at a spot on the ground.
"Hand on his head," Sliske said helpfully from behind him.
"I know," Wahisietel shot back. Steeling his nerves, he did as Sliske said and placed his hand on the warrior's forehead.
There was nothing for a few moments, and then, pain, and blackness.
It shot up his arm like electricity. He automatically tried to jerk his hand away, but it felt welded to the warrior's head. His mouth similarly stayed shut, trapping the scream that rose up from within.
It was a few seconds before Wahisietel realized that he was not in his own body anymore. His hand felt open air, and the weight of ancient armor rested upon him. The blackness in his vision cleared, bit by bit, to reveal a clearing shrouded by mist.
This mist, however, was not nearly as thick as it was where Sliske and Wahisietel waited. Here, he could see for meters ahead of him, and almost to the wall of the canyon.
He looked to his side. Or rather, whatever being he was possessing looked to its side, because Wahisietel was not in control of any of his motions.
"He" saw one of Sliske's warriors, a lanky looking human shape that might once have been female with a bow slung across its back. It nodded at him, and Wahisietel realized that he was looking through the eyes of the warrior he had just touched.
The warrior turned to face forward once again. Now Wahisietel could see the rest of Sliske's ghostly regiment flanking him, all staring in unison. In an equally united fashion, they began to move forward. Excluding maneuvering about rocks and fallen trees, they remained this way for almost a full minute. The mist grew thinner and thinner, until finally it was gone entirely, save for a few shreds floating aimlessly about them.
They reached a rock wall. The warriors stopped, glanced at each other for a few seconds, and then, as one, looked up.
The wall was ten feet tall and ended with metal, jutting upward in spikes that looked sharp enough to draw blood just by looking at them too hard. Wahisietel realized that the wall was artificial.
Not wasting any time, the warriors, following a schedule that seemed known only to them, began to climb quickly up it, finding handholds and the slightest cracks to hold onto with superhuman ease. They reached the spikes, and without hesitation hoisted themselves over them to come down on a wide, flat stone surface.
Beyond the wall lay the camp.
It was the biggest one Wahisietel had ever seen, as big as or bigger than the campaigns Zaros had launched against his greatest enemies in the Second Age. Tents were strewn about seemingly without reason and went on farther than Wahisietel could see. Fires, the furthest ones mere pinpricks of light, burned. In the distance, Wahisietel could see guards walking the perimeter of the wall, but they didn't seem to notice the five figures standing solemnly at the edge of the wall. Saradominist and Zamorakian flags waved throughout indiscriminately.
All told, Wahisietel thought it must include anywhere from thirty to fifty thousand soldiers. An army that size could easily sweep aside Senntisten like chaff in a storm in an afternoon. Wahisietel thought of the much-depleted Zarosian army going up against this one, and shuddered.
After a few minutes of this, they turned in silence and leaped back onto the ground. After this, the vision dissolved into blackness.
Wahisietel gasped as he felt himself back in his body once again. He removed his hand quickly, as though another vision might begin.
Sliske watched him curiously. The warrior rose and assumed his position amongst his fellows.
Wahisietel gasped. He felt out of breath. "That was a neat trick," he said, hoping to delay the inevitable.
"Mm," Sliske said. "I learned it from the gnomes. They have particularly refined the art of mind melding." Wahisietel didn't ask when he had visited the gnomes; it could have been anytime from the Second Age to yesterday. "You saw it."
It was a statement. "Yes," Wahisietel answered.
Sliske nodded. "Good. That was your first lesson."
"What was I supposed to learn from this?" Wahisietel asked. His voice was unexpectedly small.
"To be afraid. To be very, very afraid." Sliske sighed. "That is not the full size of it. More will arrive in the coming months. I suspect this is only half of its true size."
Wahisietel felt faint. He wasn't sure if Gielinor had ever seen an army of that size in all of its long, war-torn history. "So, that's your lesson?" he asked. "To make me afraid?"
"Yes," Sliske said. "Fear is good. Fear will keep you alive during this assignment. Fear will motivate you." He sighed again, and looked very old for a few moments. "It's my job to give everything else you'll need to survive," he said. "And we have to do it by the end of the month."
Wahisietel went cold. "That's-" he began.
"Three weeks away," Sliske said. "Yes. So we had best make the most of it." He looked at the sky, where the weak suggestion of a sun was halfway to the horizon, and then back at Wahisietel. "I think that's enough for today, though."
Wahisietel didn't feel how tired he was until that moment. He might have to sleep again.
Sliske hesitated. "We should-"
Wahisietel extended his hand. "Just make it quick," he said wearily.
Sliske took it, and they vanished into the Shadow Realm once again. The warriors looked at one another, before they began to unravel, mist flowing back into its proper place, until there was nothing left but silence.
Sorry this one took so long. (Ah, my eternal apology once again!) School has been catching up with me, I'm afraid, not to mention a severe case of writer's block. I hope this chapter is good enough to justify the wait.
Have a wonderful day!