"People speak of returning to the past to fix their mistakes. It's a fool's notion. Why return to the past when no one else is there?" - from "Chronomantic Contemplations" by Vaid DeVail, Chairman of the Arcanist's Dialectic Society of Absalom
2nd Rova, 4721 AR
Dustpawn, Isger
Dustpawn was in the foothills of the Menador Mountains in eastern Isger. All around were rocky dips and rises covered in coniferous trees. The town was, in a word, desolate. The rough wooden palisade surrounding the town still bore old scars and scorch marks. Even the watchtower guarding the gates was a little crooked.
"What happened here?" Scaelia asked as they approached the open gate.
"Goblinblood Wars." Asaf told her. "Happened two decades ago. Goblinoid tribes came out of the Chitterwood in central Isger and ravaged the entire country. Cheliax cares little for Isger until the trade routes through it are threatened, so they finally sent Hellknights. Isger's other neighbors, Andoran and Druma, sent forces as well. It was a horrific conflict."
"It's still like this from twenty years ago?" Scaelia blanched.
"Like I said. Cheliax ignores its vassal for the most part. The Isgeri have no time, no money, no energy, to take care of these things when they can only think of survival." Asaf said, frowning. It was merely one of a thousand-thousand crimes to fall on the shoulders of Infernal Cheliax and the Thrice-Damned House of Thrune.
The group rode to the gates of Dustpawn. A guard in rust-touched chainmail watched them from the tower, another doing so from the ground.
"Business?" The portly guard grunted.
"Passing through." Asaf informed him.
A wordless grunt from the guard. "You can all come in." He pointed at Dhrak. "'Cept that vermin."
Asaf had expected such a thing, frankly. Before any of his companions could speak up, he said, "ah, yes. A lone goblin in a group of adventurers is going to rain havoc on your little town." Asaf shook his head. "Rather pathetic to be so scared, don't you think?"
The guard glowered at Asaf.
The aasimar leaned down. "We are entering and will cause no trouble. You are welcome to keep sitting there and earning your pay with no trouble. If you wish to stop us, well…", his gaze shifted to his heavily armed companions, then back to the guard, "...be my guest." He offered his most winning smile.
The guard gulped, glancing up to his crossbow wielding companion on the tower. The crossbowman just shrugged. The guard on the ground jerked his head toward the open gate without another word.
"Most kind of you." Asaf said, touching his brow in an exaggerated gesture of respect as their group rode into Dustpawn. Once they were a bit into the town, he said over his shoulder, "I am sorry you had to deal with that, Dhrak."
"Meh. It is what it is. Used to it by now." The goblin brushed it off.
"You shouldn't have to be." Scaelia said with a frown.
"Agreed. But, I gotta lot bigger things to worry about then one limp dick town guard." Dhrak snorted.
"True enough." Asaf said, though it still bothered him to see his friends so casually disrespected when they had done nothing wrong.
They passed through Dustpawn. It's houses were little better than hovels of cracked wattle and daub with sagging roofs of thatch. The people wore rough homespun and stained hides, looking out at the unknown newcomers in their midst through hooded eyes. Even the young ones seemed crook backed and world weary beyond measure. It was a miserable, joyless place, just as Asaf remembered it. He looked forward to putting it behind them.
The group found the little town's only tavern, the Blunt Pick. It was a split level structure, the tavern located in the one-story side, the kitchens on the ground floor of the two-story side with the inn's rooms above it. The Blunt Pick was easily the nicest structure in town, made of stone and timber. An underfed stablehand approached the adventurers as they came close, then moved quickly from surprise to looking crestfallen when the horses were magically dismissed. No beasts to tend meant no hope for a tip from a generous customer.
Frowning, Asaf fished out a gold coin and handed it to the stablehand, who looked like he had just found a vein of platinum as he gawped at the coin.
"I assume you would have done a fine job." Asaf told the lad with a smile.
The adventurers entered the tavern. It was far too quiet. There was no music, no laughter, hardly any conversation among the subsistence farmers, hunters, and foragers that made up most of Dustpawn's population now that the iron mines were played out. All seven of them sat down at a large, circular table, where they were served mugs of passable ale and bowls of what was admittedly a very satisfying casserole primarily made with mushrooms and rabbit. They were served promptly and politely, but in no way was it cordial. It was not surprising.
"We should sleep in shifts tonight." Asaf suggested. "And in as few rooms as possible. All in one room, if we can stand it. We may have to deal with an ash clone. Or more than one, now that we're this close."
"I can handle a bedroll on the floor. Walls and a roof are enough for me." Tem said with a shrug and a long drink of ale.
"Are you even able to sleep in a proper bed anymore?" Violetta asked him with a smirk.
"That depends…", Tem started to say, then trailed off, cleared his throat, and let the statement die. That depends if you're in it. Tem had been about to say to Violetta.
Violetta seemed to parse out the unspoken words and a blush crept over her pale cheeks. She, too, sought shelter in her mug.
Asaf chuckled. Watching those two, they were like two teenagers with their first crush; holding hands, sneaking kisses when they thought no one was looking, quietly talking and giggling into the night. But, Asaf supposed, they deserved such softness. Both had been fighting the Worldwound when they were actually teenagers. They'd never had a chance for such light innocence before. Asaf could only hope their quest on his behalf would not harm either of them. Or anyone else at the table, for that matter, especially…
"You two are too much." Scaelia laughed, shaking her head in a good natured way at the tiefling and dhampir.
"Sorry, Miss Scaelia. I forget that, at your advanced age, you have likely forgotten your first relationship." Violetta quipped.
Rather than take offense, Scaelia let out a rough snort and thumped the table with one hand. "Oh, I do like this one. We should have had her around earlier."
"Aye, our Vivi's tongue's always been sharp as her daggers when she's of a mind." Dergir said, clapping Violetta on the shoulder. "There was this Iomedaen inquisitor. Ah, what was his fuckin' name?"
"Hulrun." Arashi supplied.
"Aye, that bastard. Well, he was all up in arms, saying it was the Desnans that betrayed Kenabres or some such foolishness, and Vivi says to the son of a bitch, 'only a fool would chase butterflies in a city overrun with locusts.'"
Tem let out a belly laugh at the recollection, and soon the whole table was laughing. But after a few moments, the four former Crusaders trailed off, one by one, and Asaf could see their eyes grow varying shades of distant.
"Anyhow, you're right, Halo. We'll share a room, make sure we're watching each other's backs." Temperance changed the subject.
"And tomorrow we'll be at the ruin where we can end this once and for all." Asaf said. Anxiety had been plaguing him ever since the journey began. He knew he had little hope of sleeping that night.
"We'll be in Absalom with all of this behind us before you know it." Scaelia reassured the Pathfinder.
Asaf gave her a grateful look. Her counsel, her presence, had been indispensable to him over the past few weeks. It had him wondering if their friendship was truly friendship or something…else. Not something more; friendship could easily stand on equal footing in importance and strength with romance. But, indeed, perhaps it was on the cusp of something else. Perhaps it wasn't. Asaf had taken many lovers over the years since what happened to Saerwen, but always with the understanding it would be a daliance and nothing more. It wouldn't be until after they had given Saerwen her much deserved rest that Asaf would truly be able to consider such things.
The group finally went upstairs, crowding into a little room with two beds. Arashi and Dhrak received the luxury of the beds, while Dergir and Scaelia were on first watch. As everyone settled in for the night, the events that had played out with Saerwen and the rest of that group of Pathfinders spun through Asaf's mind. It was hard to believe the others were dead now. Hard to believe they had held such a grudge for so long, especially TS. Such thoughts had kept him up a lot recently.
Amid the anxiety, the guilt, the shame, Asaf could feel another feeling growing. It was anticipation mingled with tentative relief. It was almost over. One way or another, it was almost over.
"Awake", Scaelia's voice hissed.
Everyone was up with weapons in hand in an instant. They looked to the drow, who was holding a small note in her hand.
"This was just slipped under the door. It's addressed to Horns and Halo." Scaelia informed them, handing the note to Asaf.
The aasimar blinked, but accepted the note, his golden eyes scanning it. He read it aloud:
Our agents saw you come into Isger. One of them has tailed you to make sure the Chellies weren't following you. If you're reading this, that agent believes someone or something is coming to do you harm. May be the Chellies, may not be, but either way, you should prepare yourselves.
Wishing you the best of luck,
Your friend from the ships
"Beside the valediction is a small drawing of a bellflower." Asaf informed his audience.
"Sharri." Temperance rumbled, already starting to pull his armor on. "The halfling from the Bellflower Network we pulled off that slave ship while traveling to Kintargo."
"My thoughts exactly." Asaf said, using a flicker of magic flame to burn the note before starting to gear up himself. "It must be the ash clones that are after us. I doubt this Bellflower agent would have noticed anything awry if there was only one of them."
"What's the best way to fight them?" Arashi asked Asaf.
"They feel neither pain nor fear. They're surprisingly strong and don't tire. Try to aim for the head, but they can't regrow limbs or anything like that." Asaf suggested.
"How many should we expect?" Arashi asked further.
Asaf shook his head, looking apologetic. "I don't know. I only ever had to face one at a time, likely because more than one in the same place would draw suspicion."
"Well, have no fear, Asaf. You're in a room with four Crusaders. We're well-versed in battling foes that might have no end." The paladin of Shizuru said with a confident smile.
"I will pretend that's reassuring." Asaf said with a snort of laughter.
Everyone donned their armor, packed their things, and took up their weapons. It was unlikely the people of Dustpawn would welcome their continued presence after this confrontation.
Temperance led the way out of the door and down into the dark, empty tavern. Everyone kept their heads on a swivel, waiting for dark shapes to spring from the shadows around them. They approached the Blunt Pick's front door. Asaf began to feel the unpleasant thrill of anxiety even more sharply now. Everyone had volunteered to be here, he knew, but the idea that one of them might get hurt, even killed, on this quest was almost too much to bear.
Asaf shifted his bracelet into the form a spear, gripping it tightly. He would not allow anyone else to fall in his place. He would die first.
Violetta's eyes shifted from their usual purple to pale grey. "Movement outside."
"How many?" Tem asked.
Violetta's eyes turned on him. "A lot."
Deep breaths. Weapons and armor clinking.
"Ain't nothin' to worry about." Dhrak told her. "Know why?"
"Erm…why?" Violetta asked him.
Dhrak smiled. "Because we're heroes."
With that, he opened the door and charged outside. Immediately, metal clashed with metal.
The other adventurers followed after their comrade, charging out into the street. Asaf saw the all too familiar figures of Saerwen's ash clones all around, each one wearing the elven woman's dark leather armor and voluminous cloak, carrying twin daggers etched with thorny vines. Asaf let out a battle cry as he thrust his spear with both hands right into the breadbasket of the nearest ash clone, bearing it to the ground and blasting off its head with a bolt of lightning. Yanking the spear up and shifting it, he cause a leaping ash clones to slam straight into the spearhead. Asaf used the construct's own weight to lever it around and slam it into the ground, then whirled his spear in his hands and stabbed it down through the ash clone's forehead. Just like the first one, it dissipated into a cloud of settling ash the moment it "died."
Tem's sword and Dergir's axe both lit up the darkened night with bright flames, sweeping in wide, burning arcs the hack ash clones to pieces. So, too, did Arashi's sword shine with sunlight, lashing out quickly and brutally. Scaelia remained near the front door, her arrows seeking out any ash clone trying to outmaneuver or ambush the party. Violetta had her own daggers in hand, going knife-to-knife with one ash clone after another. And, of course, Dhrak stood fast beneath his Curtain of Steel. It was amazing, really, to not only see such a mighty group of adventurers all working together, but to be taking part of it. To be adding to it.
And this is what I had been depriving myself of. Asaf managed to think as he dodged a pair of daggers that almost flensed the flesh from his cheeks. He opened his mouth and yelled, unleashing a sonic blast that shook the attacking ash clone apart. The acclaim he'd cared so much about as the Worldwalker; it felt like a pittance next to this. The stories he had made with this group already, those they had yet to write. Gods, Asaf was still more excited about his joint chronicle with Scaelia than he had been for any of his other writings.
The ash clones were dispatched quickly enough. They were ambushers and assassins, just as Saerwen had been. If they had been given the chance to sneak up on Asaf and his companions, perhaps the fight would have gone differently. Asaf couldn't feel very relieved about that, though. As he stood among a swirling cloud of windblown ash, he knew this had merely been a prologue to what was to come once they reached the ruin where Saerwen remained captive.
"We should mount up and ride." Asaf suggested, his breath fogging in the chill of the late autumn night. Dustpawn was stirring around them. "Is anybody injured?"
"A few minor dings. Nothing to worry about." Tem informed him. He summoned Oath and pulled Dhrak up into the saddle in a move that was now well-practiced.
The rest of the group did the same with their own mounts. They were well out of the gates before anyone could stop them, leaving behind only a street full of ash.
3rd Rova, 4721 AR
Menador Mountains foothills, eastern Isger
They spent a cold night under the stars, under the bows of the trees. Dustpawn's militia didn't bother trying to pursue them. There was little conversation and everyone was tired from their interrupted rest, so watches were set and everyone else curled up in their bedrolls.
They rode their horses on an overgrown road through Isger's countryside. The day was crisp, with a slight breeze. More accustomed to the desert and carrying the lingering chill of the night, Asaf longed for the warm sun of his homeland.
A new weight settled over Asaf's shoulders. Scaelia was riding in Khamsa's saddle behind him and had just given him her cloak.
"Oh. Thank you." Asaf said, pulling it gratefully around himself, looking back at her.
"It's cold in the underground year round. I'm used to this. The sun makes it rather nice, actually." Scaelia informed him. A smile crossed her face as she briefly looked up into the sun, which was pale and white on that autumn morning. Even so, Scaelia was likely the only drow that could do such a thing. Most were incredibly sensitive to sunlight, and looking right at the sun would temporarily blind them. The light glittered off her white eyes and gave her ivory hair a lustrous sheen.
"Sarenrae is lucky to have a servant like you, Miss Scaelia." Asaf said quietly, somewhat unprompted.
The drow looked at Asaf, her head cocked to one side, a curious expression on her face. "What do you mean?" She asked.
"You're a beacon of her ideals; of mercy, of light, and of her fiery vengeance upon those beyond redemption. The Dawnflower is blessed to have you, as you are blessed to have her, I think." Asaf explained.
Scaelia smiled again, a bit demurely, as she looked away. Asaf refocused on the path ahead.
"I knew from the moment I saw Her light for the first time that my life's work would be to bring it to the Darklands." Scaelia said. "It's…nice of you to say so, Halo."
"There are countless temples to the Everlight across the Keleshite Empire. If we ever get the chance to go to the capital as we discussed before, I shall have to show you some of them. I have no doubts the priests will be eager to speak to you." Asaf reasoned.
Something curious happened. Scaelia always held Asaf's shoulders or either side of his waist when they rode together. But her hands moved from his flanks, wrapping around his belly. He felt the weight of Scaelia laying her head against his back from behind.
"I would like that a lot." She whispered.
"I thought you might." Asaf replied.
"That's if I can stand being seen in public with you across an entire empire." Scaelia added quietly.
"I will pray the Dawnflower might have mercy on your fragile reputation, Miss Scaelia." Asaf said with a chuckle.
A few moments of silence passed.
"You ever going to stop calling me 'Miss?'" Scaelia asked him.
"If you tell me to." Asaf said.
"This is me telling you to."
"Then it shall be so, Scaelia."
Asaf had been expecting an ambush, just not of the sort they received.
It was not long after the group had set out again after their midday break when a voice called out from the trees.
"The day she sends her host, the pilgrims arrive! Stay your weapons, travelers! We mean you no harm!"
It wasn't until two people came out of the trees with no obvious weapons in hand that the adventurers took hands off their weapons. They were both human, a young man and a woman somewhere in her forties. Both had shorn heads and wore hide robes. Their faces were smeared with ash.
"I am Witness Calar." The woman said, coming up the road embankment to stand beside the adventurers. "Have you come to pay homage to the Ashen Sybil?"
The adventurers shared looks with each other, except for Asaf. He answered at once.
"Indeed, noble Witness. My company and I have traveled many leagues to bear witness to the holy Sybil. We bore witness to the passing of her host." Asaf replied. "You were expecting pilgrims on this day?"
"Indeed." Calar replied with a nod. "The Ashen Sybil, may her bodies be many, told us that the day a great number of her host ascended from the Sacred Depths, we should prepare for the coming of pilgrims soon afterward. Lo, you have come. And she speaks so, so rarely. Please, follow me."
Calar began walking, her companion returning to his sentry post in the trees. The adventurers silently conferred, and when no one made motion or word of refusal, Asaf began leading the way after Calar.
"What a day. What a blessed day." Calar said eagerly as they walked.
"How…did you come to serve the Ashen Sybil, Witness?" Asaf asked her.
"Before I served her most Replicant Form, I was but a bandit, waylaying travelers for meager coin with other miscreants." Calar shook her head sadly. "How lost I was. How lost, indeed. One day, we attacked a lone traveler, but they ended up being a match for our entire group. A single spell slew half our number. The rest of us fled into the forest, but the traveler's conjured elementals harried us. My companions died one by one, and I would have fallen as well, had I not happened upon the very ruin where the Ashen Sybil is held." A look approaching spiritual bliss crossed Calar's face. "I was saved by a group of the Sybil's Divine Bodies. They destroyed the elementals. I saw her then, her many forms in perfect symmetry, each one flawless, and knew I had discovered something wonderful."
"What does your service to the Sybil entail?" Scaelia queried over Asaf's shoulder.
"We Witnesses must be on hand to hear the words of the Ashen Sybil when she chooses to speak. Then, we must interpret the meaning of her wisdom and record it. One day, when our faith has grown, we will spread her word across Isger. Across the Inner Sea." Calar declared.
Asaf felt a little sick to his stomach. The people of Isger were desperate for any ray of hope. His cowardice had a more far reaching impact than simply his old adventuring party, it seemed. Well, they were here to put it all right. They'd have to be careful. If these Witnesses worshipped Saerwen like a deity, they would likely not take very kindly to Asaf's attempts to put Saerwen to rest.
"Can you…tell us what the Sybil has said to you?" Asaf asked.
"I can't. You are not a Witness. It is for neither your ears or eyes." Calar said plainly.
Asaf decided to fall silent. The adventurers followed Calar, surrounded by birdsong and rustling pines.
About ten minutes down the road, they reached the entrance to the mine. The old mining camp had been refurbished and rebuilt by the Witnesses, it seemed. It had never been a large operation; two bunkhouses sat next to each other across a footpath from what had been the foreman's quarters, which now appeared to be a fane of some kind. All of these were built from timber pulled from the surrounding trees. Somehow, the earthen rampart and wooden palisade surrounding the camp was in better shape than Dustpawn's walls. A yawning black fissure was open in the cliff face that made up the back side of the town.
Calar led them into the camp. It became immediately apparent that the Witnesses were not great in number; perhaps a score at most. A few were going about chores around the bunkhouses; chopping wood, preparing hides, salting meat, harvesting produce from a garden. Smoke was billowing from the chimneys of the two bunkhouses. All appeared to be human, and all were adults. If it weren't for the more cultish aspects of the place, the Witness camp would appear to be like any other wilderness homestead. Asaf had expected to find more ash clones, but none were visible.
"When can we go before the Ashen Sybil?" Asaf asked.
"Go before her? None of us go before her." Calar explained, looking dismayed. "Those that do are slain by her Iron Angels. No, she passes her words along through her Divine Bodies, when she can. It seems very difficult for her. I imagine it must be hard to spare time for mortal words when one is too busy contemplating the divine." Calar shrugged. "However, you are welcome to stay for the night. If you are willing to earn your keep, you are more than welcome to await the coming of the next Divine Body."
They needed to sit and discuss their next moves. There didn't appear to be anything nefarious going on here. Until that was otherwise proven, the adventurers would need to tread carefully to avoid violence.
"We would be grateful for a place to rest, thank you. Our road has been long and wearying." Asaf said.
Calar pointed to one of the bunk houses. "That is the guest house. It should be stocked with firewood and plenty of blankets. Please, make yourselves comfortable. You are welcome under the Sybil's divine protection. I will ensure enough is made for you all at supper. I only ask that you do not enter the fane or the caves. Only Witnesses may enter those places."
"We understand perfectly." Asaf assured her.
The adventurers were ushered into the guest house and essentially left to their own devices. Temperance piled wood up in the fireplace and Asaf got them burning with a simple cantrip. It was a barebones space, but sturdy and sealed well against the elements. Everyone gathered before the warmth of the fire to discuss the next steps.
"Gonna say it; don't think we should eat or drink anything these folks give us." Dhrak spoke the foremost word.
"Agreed." Violetta said with a grimace. "This place makes me…uneasy."
"So far, we have no reason to suspect they are anything other than desperate people trying to find purpose somewhere. Though I suspect there is little chance we'll get through this without disabusing them of that notion." Asaf reasoned, rubbing his chin.
"How deep in the mine is the entrance to the ruin?" Scaelia asked him.
"Not far." Asaf said. "I could make myself invisible and sneak in. But I doubt I will be able to deal with those Iron Angels on my own."
It was Temperance whose eyes lit up with inspiration. "Hey. Halo."
"Hm?" The aasimar grunted.
"You remember how you used an illusion of a troll to distract the dragonborn back in Varisia." The tiefling recalled.
Asaf blinked. "Indeed I do, but what does that have to…", the Pathfinder trailed off as it came to him. "...Sir Temperance, on occasion, you are a genius."
"Care to enlighten us non-geniuses?" Scaelia asked with a snort.
"Happily." Temperance said.
It was evening when the Witnesses began gathering in the fane for the prayers that would precede their supper. Witness Calar could be heard speaking to them all in reverent tones, raising her voice in honor of their Ashen Sybil. Outside the fane, a large pot of stew was simmering in the heat of a bonfire.
It was then, as the sky began going from orange to red with the sunset, that a figure entered the fane, standing just inside the door. It was Saerwen, perfectly formed down to every last beauty mark, praising the faith of her Witnesses, telling them they should go forth and spread the word of her faith, leaving their refuge behind at once. She then dissipated into a cloud of ash.
The Witnesses wasted no time. They forgot about the stew pot, forgot about their guests, packing their things in a rush, singing hymns and babbling scripture as they loaded a couple of mules with provisions. They were gone from the camp in only about half an hour.
The adventurers emerged from the guest house. Asaf breathed a sigh of relief. His illusion had served its purpose well. It was a dangerous world out there and he felt guilty for forcing the Witnesses out, but there was very little chance of getting into the caves without violence, and he sincerely doubted these zealots would have listened to his explanation on the true nature of their Ashen Sybil. No, this lesser evil was the best they could hope for.
Dergir approached the stew pot, scooped up a ladleful of its contents, then tried some. He spat it out. "Torag's teeth, what'd they season this with? Dirt?"
"We aren't here for supper, Adi." Arashi said.
The dwarf grumbled wordlessly.
The adventurers approached the fissure in the cliff face. There was a stool beside the entrance where a Witness had stood guard, an oil lantern on a pole still lit beside it. Asaf felt his heartbeat start to pick up. It was all too familiar. It somehow felt like a lifetime ago and just yesterday that he was approaching this cave with a group of Pathfinders, dreams of what he might do with an army of clones under his command dancing through his head. Now, he had come full circle. He would put a stop to any hope of such an army ever becoming a threat to Golarion.
Asaf wanted this to be over. So, he refused to hesitate.
"Let's go." He said, striding toward the entrance with a shortsword in hand. It was now or never.
A few tunnels and ladders led the group to the place in question.
It was such an innocuous thing, that entrance to the ruin. It was a hole in the cave floor about five feet across. Though all present could see in the dark for one reason or another, none of them needed it. There were sullen red lights illuminating the ruin below, revealing unnaturally angular contours and metal that still managed to shine after gods knew how long. Of the Iron Angels, there was no sign. The rope Asaf and Saerwen had used to get down there the first time was still in place, mildewed and fraying, held by a rusting piton. It was about a twenty foot drop.
"I have a better path", Scaelia said, summoning her magic.
Stone from the wall of the mine flowed like water toward the entrance to the Ashen Forge. Scaelia shaped the stone into a crude but sturdy ladder that would be much more reliable.
"Alright everyone." Asaf said, a breath rushing out of his nostrils as his guts churned. "The Forge is that way", he pointed at a wall. "I will try to hurry and…put Saerwen to rest. Then we can flee before the Iron Angels become too much of a problem."
"Hah! Let them come. Nothing a servant of the Forge-Fire can't unmake!" Dergir boasted.
"What Adi means is we have your back should it come to that, Asaf." Arashi amended for his companion.
Asaf nodded, looking around at his comrades. "Again, everyone, thank you. No matter what happens. I thank you from the bottom of my heart."
Temperance stepped forward, slinging his sword and shield across his back. "The Five-Winged Knight is with us. Let's do this."
The tiefling began his descent down the ladder. Having intended to be the first one in, Asaf followed after him.
One by one, the adventurers went down into the chamber of the Ashen Forge. It was smaller than Asaf's memory had made it. It was still a fairly large space, but memory had blown it up into some akin to the great Vaults beneath the Darklands. The StasShip this place was not; no flowing or streamlined architecture down here. The place was rough, unwelcoming, not crude but…brutish, Asaf decided. The room was cylindrical, about one hundred feet across. What had once likely been the proper entrance was filled with a collapsed heap of rubble.
The walls of the chamber were covered in jagged lines, crusted with rock in places. Asaf realized those were the chambers holding the so-called Iron Angels that protected this place. But he didn't need them to open to know what they looked like. That was because several stood around the Ashen Forge itself.
To call the constructs "angels" was to insult those warriors of the Upper Planes. They were seven foot tall beings of steel and wood, each with four eyes of gleaming rubies set into otherwise featureless, blade-sleek faces. Swords jutted from their right forearms, the left ones sheathed in some kind of shimmering field of magic. Runes could be seen across their metal bodies, shimmering with the rune magic that empowered them. The Angels' legs bent the wrong way. They stood stock still, watching the newcomers impassively.
"Those are Thassilonian runes." Asaf realized. Rune magic was the invention of Thassilon, quite rare now but not unheard of, and usually held as taboo.
"Why don't they attack?" Tem asked, sword and shield in hand.
"They didn't awake until I used the Forge last time." Asaf said. He looked harder, last the Angels, and realized that there was an ash clone sitting on top of the control altar. It did not move, either, which was eerie. They had all tried to kill Asaf previously.
The others finished descending. They approached the Ashen Forge in the center of the room, but did not surmount the dais it rested on.
There was no response to their approach at first. He could see the coffin of glass and metal that held the elven woman fast, the control altar spread out beside it. Tension grew more and more pronounced. The ash clone watched them approach from between two of the Iron Angels, but that was all it did.
"Saerwen. I'm here to end this. To put you to rest." Asaf spoke up. He balled his hands into fists to stop them from shaking.
At his raised voice and direct address of Saerwen, the Angels stood straighter, their ruby eyes turning on them.
"There is no Rune of Permission upon your aura." The nearest Angel informed them in a voice that Asaf had expected to be monotone, but had an altogether too mortal variance in pitch and tone. "Back away or be destroyed."
Asaf looked back at his companions, looking into their faces one by one. He saw a series of determined looks. In the case of Dergir, there was even eagerness.
The aasimar's gaze swept back to the Angel. "Your empire is dead. Your creators are no more than bones and dust. Stand aside, guardian, or be destroyed."
The ruby eyes burned even more brightly. "Final warning issued: back away or be destroy-"
A radiant arrow slammed into the arcane machine's forehead. It lurched back from the impact, but did not fall. Everyone looked at Scaelia, who merely drew her string back, another arrow forming upon it, and fired.
The Iron Angel she targeted raised its arm. There was a resonance of sonic magic as the shield of sound deflected the arrow and sent it clattering to the ground.
"Destroy them." The Angel commanded, pointing with its sword arm.
Dergir stormed past the group, falling into the battle fury. The others charged with him, Asaf included. He raised his free hand, focused, and cast a spell. A wave of thunderous force buffeted three of the machines, denting their armor. These things were tough. Asaf watched as Dergir dodged under the sword arm of one Angel, his axe hacking into the knee joint of one of its legs. The machine went off balance, falling to its broken knee, which brought its head well within reach of the axe. Dergir severed the sentinel's head, which bounced clangorously against the ground and down the steps of the dais.
Not too tough, then.
Asaf lost track of the others as the Angel with the arrow in its face rose up on him, slashing down with its wrist blade. The machines were fast for their size. Asaf barely managed to deflect the attack with the shaft of his spear, and his reprisal scraped against the machine's belly with no effect. It slashed again, forcing him back, then Asaf tried something else. He launched an acid arrow spell at near point-blank into the Angel's chest, backing up as he did. The guardian swung at him again while its chest popped and fizzled. Asaf reposted, his spear piercing the weakened metal. He then channeled a shocking grasp spell through his spear head, which rattled the construct, causing two of its ruby eyes to crack, a third to explode. The Angel collapsed in a heap onto the floor.
An alarm began to sound, a trembling moving through the floor. Asaf felt his guts turn to water as the sensations came straight out of his memory. This exact sensation had made him flee. Just as back then, the walls began to open. More Iron Angels emerged from their resting places along the walls, their crimson eyes lighting up as they activated.
Asaf turned. The ash clone atop the altar continued staring at them. But there, he could see the vague outline of Saerwen contained inside the coffin. Somehow he knew she was still alive after all these years. Perhaps it was his brief interaction with the Ashen Forge all those years ago that had imparted this knowledge upon him, but it also told him one other thing; if Saerwen died, the ash clones would be no more. As for the Iron Angels, he did not know.
As Asaf's comrades put down the last of the machines that had initially been gathered around the altar, Asaf himself charged for the control altar, feeling the ash clone's eyes on him the entire way. She was sitting cross-legged, almost perfectly still, but her head and eyes moved as Asaf moved. Somehow, that was more dreadful to him than the killer machines peeling themselves from their alcoves and coming into the fray.
Asaf had envisioned himself standing before the glass coffin lid, saying all his apologies to Saerwen, begging her forgiveness, promising he would never act as he did back then again. But necessity and the danger to his comrades spurred Asaf into immediate action. He drew back his spear, leapt up, and thrust down with all his might, prepared for the enchanted weapon to easily pierce the glass.
The spear did not breach the coffin. In fact, with a resonance much like the shields on the arms of the Iron Angels, Asaf was hurled back with ringing ears, landing hard at the foot of the dais leading up to the control altar.
The altar. That was it. Asaf cursed himself. His blood had activated the Ashen Forge. His blood would be needed to deactivate it.
But it was too late to try that out as a new wave of Iron Angels fell upon the adventurers. They attacked with no malice or ferocity, merely unyielding surety. The idea that they might be stymied here raged within Asaf and he held out a hand, a gout of lightning springing from his fingers. The bolts leapt between several of the Angels, felling two of them on the spot.
Scaelia had put her bow away, now fighting with her sun-blessed scimitar. She spoke a word of power and summoned a column of divine fire that slagged the Iron Angel immediately in front of her. Another shoved its falling comrade aside and thrust at Scaelia, who parried the attack, twisted, and sliced her radiant scimitar across the chest of the Angel. Her slashing blade was ill-suited to pierce armor and merely left a rapidly cooling furrow through the steel.
"The joints! Aim for the joints, Scaelia!" Asaf told her, launching an acid cantrip at the Angel before Scaelia. The blob of acid struck the machine's flank, but didn't have the power necessary to significantly weaken it like the acid arrow spell had.
The drow did not banter back per usual custom, instead ducked under a stab at her head and struck the machine's knee with a backhanded slash. It did not have the same effect as Dergir's mighty axe, but as the Iron Angel advanced, it was noticeably sluggish on that leg.
Then Asaf reached her, driving his spear into the weakened joint. The machine fell onto its side. Scaelia hacked down into the guardian's neck and removed its head.
Asaf had only a moment to look around the room. He saw Temperance being carried on burning wings, Forbearance raining smiting blows down upon the heads of the Iron Angels as the tiefling passed overhead. Violetta followed in his course. When they looked down at her, Tem struck from above. When they focused on Tem, Violetta hacked their legs out from beneath them. The strategy was serving them well until one of the Iron Angels punched upward, its sonic shield howling as it struck against Blackbole. Tem was hurled through the air, the flames of his wings trailing like a comet's tail, and the tiefling slammed roughly into the floor.
"Temperance!" Asaf cried, but he could not go to his friend's aid as a trio of Iron Angels fell upon him and Scaelia. Asaf hurled more lightning, which eliminated one of the Iron Angels at once. Asaf and Scaelia were attacked by the other two and forced back.
Asaf was forced to dodge and block for several seconds as the Iron Angel attacking him tried to overwhelm him. Asaf took a leaf from Dhrak's book and managed to dive and roll under the construct's legs, wheeling and stabbing the guardian in the shoulder joint of its shield arm. Sparks flew, runes along the arm went dark as the limb went limp, but Asaf spear became wedged in place. He collapsed it back into bracelet form, but that moment of being stuck in place and without a weapon was all the Iron Angel needed.
Pain erupted from Asaf's chest as the Angel sliced backwards, rending a path until one of the adamantine studs in his leather armor turned the wrist blade. Asaf yelled as he stumbled back, clutching the wound with one hand. With the other, he reached deep within himself into the divine wellspring of his power, desperation and fear of death lending him strength. He found power there he had not seen before and pointed a single finger at the machine that was about to cleave him in two. A thin, grey beam of unremarkable magic sprang from his finger, striking the Iron Angel center of mass.
The thing turned to dust, rather resembling an ash clone in its demise as the particulates filtered to the floor. Asaf knew the spell. Most simply called it "disintegrate." It was apt. He only wished he could find that power within a second time as two more Iron Angels closed on him. Asaf summoned his spear, but his wound was deep. His vision was fuzzy, uneven.
"You will not touch him!" Came the cry from behind Asaf as Scaelia streamed passed him.
The drow moved with a righteous fury that rivaled Dergir. The radiant light of her scimitar seemed to burn even brighter, carrying a corona of the very light of Sarenrae as it hewed the sword arm of one construct off. She dodged, a beam of radiant energy springing from her hand that made metal boil and run like wax from the face of the other, all its ruby eyes falling out. She then slid to one side as a sonic-clad fist slammed down into the floor, her scimitar cutting off that arm, too, then one of the Angel's legs. As with the others, a final stroke severed the machine's head.
Scaelia turned to face Asaf. The light in her eyes may well have been the very same that burned upon Sarenrae's own scimitar. Blood ran down her head, rivulets dancing through the stubbled hair she kept so short on the sides. Half her right ear was missing, but she barely seemed to be letting it slow her down.
"No one harms you and walks away while I'm still standing." Scaelia growled, hurrying over to Asaf. Healing magic flowed into him, but he still felt weak. Everyone who came here with magic had burned through it quickly.
"My hero." The aasimar wheezed weakly. "We need to get to the altar. I can…I think I can shut these things down."
Scaelia nodded to him. She held her sword up, letting its light shine brightly. "Everyone! On me!"
The other adventurers fought their way over. They were a sorry looking lot, to be sure, all battered and wounded in one form or fashion, but they stood strong all the same.
"To the altar. Go!" Asaf told them, finding his resolve and taking up his spear once more. He would not be a burden now.
The seven adventurers made their push into the encircling Iron Angels. Forbearance swept out, cutting both legs from the first to get in the way. Temperance landed hard on the Angel's chest and cut off its head, then swept his burning sword up and around to decapitate another machine behind him. Dergir hurled himself past Tem, slamming into another Angel with enough force to topple the machine, his axe falling into its face again and again.
The others reached the steps of the dais, Scaelia almost shoving Asaf up the stairs as Tem and Dergir caught up with them. They formed a line, their weapons flashing and clanging as a score of Iron Angels converged upon them, ready to push up the dais and overwhelm the adventurers. Someone bellowed above the others, in anger, or pain, or both.
Asaf hurried to the top, pulling off his left gauntlet. He spotted the orb that had taken his blood the first time they'd come here, running to it and grabbing it, willing with all his heart and mind that the Iron Angels would shut down, that Saerwen would be set free. Pain lanced through Asaf's hand as the countless tiny needles pierced his flesh. He grit his teeth, refusing to pull his hand away. He looked up at the ash clone, holding its gaze, staring unblinkingly into those eyes that were alive yet dead all at once.
Then the room went quiet.
Asaf sank to his knees, leaning against the control altar and pulling his hand away from the activation sphere. Breathing heavily, wiping sweat from his face, he looked back to see the Iron Angels had all fallen still, their ruby eyes gone dark. Dergir was fallen back against the steps, Arashi kneeling beside the dwarf and pouring healing magic into the berserker's body. Arashi didn't appear to be too panicked, so hopefully it was well within his remaining power to stabilize Dergir. The others were looking back up at Asaf, all dripping with sweat and blood, their faces bruised and cut.
"Halo." Temperance rasped, pointing past the aasimar.
Asaf turned around. The coffin holding Saerwen hissed, emitting several small streams of what looked like steam. Still, the ash clone watched.
The coffin lid slowly raised, releasing a cloud of the acrid steam. What Asaf saw beneath it caused a sob to escape his lips, unbidden. He felt no shame over it. There was plenty of shame to be had already.
Saerwen was gaunt and corpselike. Her flesh was jaundiced, eyes sunken and bloodshot. Her leather armor was cracked and split all over. Her daggers, still clutched in each hand, were little more than sticks of rust. The elf's once soft hair looked as brittle as frozen wheat stalks.
Saerwen did not move. She did not speak. She barely breathed. It was a quiet, ragged sound.
"Free…me…", the ash clone spoke in a hoarse approximation of Saerwen's voice.
Asaf looked up at the clone. "Wh-...why wait to speak to me now? Why try to kill me? To kill us all?"
"When…locked in…here…", the clone gasped. "...anger. Wanted…revenge. That was…template…" There was a long pause. "Further away…harder…to…control…"
"But you can control this one because it's so near." Asaf muttered, the academic side of him still finding a way to be fascinated through all this.
"Barely." The ash clone croaked. "Free…me…"
Asaf nodded, feeling his body shake. He turned his spear into a dagger and approached Saerwen. The enchanted chains that had captured her were gone now. The elf did not stir in the coffin, did not look at Asaf, even as he leveled the dagger with her heart. He looked up at the ash clone. It still watched him with an expressionless face.
"I'm so sorry, Wen." Asaf whispered. His arms shook, the dagger unsteady now. "I…I…" There were so many things he wanted to say, but at the moment, they all felt hollow. The words were ash on his tongue, pointless. Useless. Nothing would undo what he did. Nothing would take away the years of torturous existence Saerwen had to endure. So, he braced himself, and tried to make his hands thrust the dagger home.
But he couldn't do it. Asaf tried. For the love of Sarenrae, Desna, and Shelyn, he tried to will his hands to do the deed. But he couldn't bring himself to drive a blade into Saerwen's heart, now that he was standing before her, the obscuring glass of the coffin no longer offering a blessed illusion if anonymity.
"I can't." He sobbed. The dagger became a bracelet again and Asaf fell to his knees. "How? How can I kill you? How can I hurt the woman I loved so much, get rid of these ash clones that are the closest I will ever see to you as you once were?"
"Free…me…", the ash clone repeated, and there was desperation there now.
Asaf heard someone kneeling by his side. It was Scaelia.
"I've failed. I've failed again." Asaf whispered as the drow put her arms around his shoulders.
"No, Asaf. You haven't." Scaelia said firmly. "You've simply encountered something you can't overcome right now. That is no failure. That's just something every mortal has to deal with. And you already know how we respond to that."
Asaf blinked. "I do?"
Someone else stepped up, a Pharasman dagger in her hand.
"We turn to those who can help us, knowing one day we might help them in return." Violetta said. "You don't have to carry this burden, Asaf. I am an Usher of the Lady of Graves. Please. Let me help you, and let me help Saerwen."
Asaf sniffed, wiping his nose. After a moment, he nodded. He watched Violetta approach Saerwen. Asaf may not have been able to do the deed, but he would not look away.
Violetta placed her dagger where Asaf had put his a moment ago.
"Mother of Souls, I commend this woman to your care. May she find peace in the life that is to come. May her journey along the River of Souls be quick and untroubled. May her judgement at the foot of your throne be swift and fair. In your name, let it be." The dhampir prayed.
Her dagger parted flesh, slipped between ribs, and pierced Saerwen's heart. The elven woman's breath caught in her throat, then slowly whistled out for the final time.
Asaf looked from Saerwen's body to the ash clone sitting atop the control altar. The clone's profile began to flake and fall away into a cloud of ash, slowly at first, but then more and more quickly. Just as she was about to dissipate fully, the ash clone met Asaf's eyes.
And smiled. It was full of joy, of relief. It was as bright and beautiful an expression as Asaf remembered it on Saerwen's own face.
Then it was gone, nothing more than a pile of ash atop the arcane machine that had caused Asaf so much grief.
Saerwen was at peace. It was over.
12th Rova, 4721 AR
The Inner Sea
The others helped Asaf carry Saerwen's body outside. Violetta performed the last rites over the elf. They buried her in a properly dug grave just outside the walls of the Witness Camp. The night was spent in the Witness bunkhouse, the adventurers feeding themselves with the provender the Witnesses left behind. Finally, when the morning came, Scaelia and Arashi healed everyone more completely, then they went down into the Ashen Forge, destroying the inert Iron Angels and wrecking the control altar so no one could else could be trapped by it again.
The next few days were strange for Asaf. He felt lighter, but also hollowed out. Some part of him that he had carried for years was gone now. It was like…withdrawal. Or mourning. Asaf did not speak much. His friends gave him space. Gave him time. He was grateful for that.
Now, the Isle of Kortos was coming over the horizon, the City at the Center of the World rising with the morning sun to greet them. Absalom. It felt like ages since he'd been there last, when in truth, Temperance and Asaf had set off from Absalom only three months ago. So much had happened. So much had changed.
Asaf was at the prow of the ship that was giving them passage. The Pathfinder felt tired down to his marrow. He longed for the familiarity of his room at the Courtier's Cork. But that exhaustion was of a similar fashion to the muscle-deep tiredness one felt after a long day's productive work. They had accomplished much. Much more lay ahead, but it couldn't be denied they had done a lot of good.
Someone came to his side at the prow.
"Good morning." Asaf said.
"It's looking like it might be." Scaelia said with a yawn. She gathered her hair and started braiding it.
"Here. Allow me." Asaf offered, turning to her.
With a pleasantly surprised smile, Scaelia turned around and let Asaf start braiding.
"My father Artasaf has always had hair that falls to his waist." Asaf explained. "I wanted to learn to do this so I could grow mine as long as his one day, so he taught me to do his braids. I was so grateful I never realized he was just giving me work he didn't feel like doing." Asaf laughed. "Ah, it never happened for me, though. Hair that long's not very conducive to adventuring."
"Mhm", Scaelia replied. At first, Asaf thought she wasn't listening, but he glanced around to see her eyes were closed and a contented grin was on her face.
Asaf decided to fall silent and let the moment continue. When he was done, the two of them leaned against the railing on either side of the bowsprit.
"So. You have plans once we reach the city?" Scaelia asked.
Asaf thought for a moment, then began listing off. "Well, first I'm going to go to the Courtier's Cork and buy a bottle of wine from one of two vineyards outside of Oppara, can't decide which yet. Then I'm going to soak in a hot bath for an hour or two, then nap until hunger wakes me up, then eat until I can't anymore. Then more sleep, I think."
"Hm. Sounds like a good plan." Scaelia said.
"It does. What about you?" Asaf asked.
"Oh, I haven't thought of anything yet." She replied with a sigh, glancing sidelong at him.
"Well, I'm sure you'll find something. Absalom is a big place." Asaf assured her with a smirk, meeting her eyes.
The cleric gave him a flat look.
"You are, of course, welcome to join me." Asaf added, his smirk widening a little.
"Maybe. If I decide I can still stand your company after being on the road with you for weeks." Scaelia said with a snicker and a wink.
"But of course." Asaf said.
The ship was entering Absalom's teeming harbor within a couple of hours. Almost as soon as the gangplank went down, Tem and Violetta bid everyone quick farewells before heading off into the city hand in hand. Dergir and Arashi went shortly thereafter, the dwarf saying something about dumplings. That left Asaf, Scaelia, and Dhrak.
"You know, Dhrak, you're welcome to come with us to the Courtier's Cork." Asaf said, to which Scaelia agreed with a nod. Asaf felt rather bad for the goblin duelist. He was the odd man out, so to speak.
Dhrak surprised Asaf with a ready smile and a wave of his hand as he put on his wide-brimmed hat, seeming to predict Asaf's thoughts. "I 'preciate it, you two. But you don't gotta worry about me. I'm a Caydenite through and through; wherever there's ale and a place to drink it, I've got friends aplenty. And besides", he pointed upward, "I'm never alone. Not really. My heart's already with someone."
Of course. Dhrak's azata muse. Asaf was himself an azata-blooded aasimar. Dhrak's devotion to the bralani he had saved, who had inspired him to take up the sword in Cayden Cailean's name, spoke to a deep part of Asaf's soul.
"Well, one way or another, you'll be coming by to sample Jyoti's ample selection of spirits while we're here, and on that, Messer, I will brook no refusal." Asaf told him.
Dhrak doffed his hat and placed it over his chest. "On my honor, you'll see me there." With that, he headed down the gangplank, whistling to himself as he melted into the crowd.
Scaelia looked over at Asaf now, her arms folded across her chest.
"You're lucky to have found such a man in your travels." Asaf said of Dhrak as disembarked."
"I am, indeed. And I dare say that bralani is equally lucky." Scaelia responded. "But he's not the only one I've been lucky to find."
"Oh?" Asaf prompted as he offered the drow his arm.
Scaelia took it, saying, "certainly. Arashi's cooking has been a godsend on the road."
Asaf scoffed. "Of course."
The two started heading into Absalom.
"You're a good person, Asaf. Never doubt that." Scaelia said quietly, barely audible over the crowd. Asaf was beginning to get the impression she wasn't good at expressing her feelings outside of extreme situations.
The aasimar patted her arm. "And I have all of you to thank for making me want to be one again."
The day that followed was exactly what Asaf had wanted. He and Scaelia found some clothes that weren't armor. They drank wine, lazed about in baths, ate, and slept. They shared a bed, but Asaf was not ready for physical intimacy beyond simply holding Scaelia close quite yet. The drow didn't seem to mind. She quickly fell asleep as Asaf ran his fingers through he hair and hummed softly to her.
There was so much uncertainty ahead. The Ancalagon dragonborn may have been quiet for a while, but they all knew the fight against those invaders was far from over. Asaf and his friends had few allies against this danger, and almost no information about this mysterious foe.
But, there was still hope. They had defeated the Ancalagon at every turn so far. Their group was only growing stronger, more powerful, and now they could try to rally any people of the Inner Sea who might be willing to join the fight. Somehow, uncertain as he was, Asaf was not afraid. Alongside his new friends, now unburdened by the past, Asaf felt like he could do anything.