A Record of Ash & Ruin: The Grieving Lands

Book 2: Chapter 13: Poison

Mithril, God-metal, or Saint’s Silver in the eastern lands, is as precious as a firstborn royal heir and as rare as a dragon’s smile. As strong as adamantium and as light as freshly spun silk, a master-forged mithril weapon is a thing of both peerless grace and deadly beauty.

- The Fanciful Travels by Beron de Laney 376 AC.

Leading Patches by the reins and navigating through the afternoon traffic, it took a good stressful forty minutes until we finally made it near the east gate. Towards the latter half of our trek across the city, Larynda, carrying her heavy bag, had begun to flag. In an interesting show of kindness, Kidu reached down and shouldered her pack along with his own, much to her relief. I found the whole exchange grating for some reason, but it meant that we had no need to slow down.

Elwin’s sudden and off-the-cuff decision, understandable as it was, still stuck in my craw. It would take me a while yet to process the event, for I had other things on my mind.

I tried to ignore most of the exotic sights of the city of tents and focused on my singular goal. However, a few moments later, I grew distracted by everything around me, and just for the sake of doing it, I paused to read the sign of a stall on my right, for practice. Thank heavens the local script was a phonetic one. Due to this, I was slowly but surely beginning to grasp even the written forms of the language. Literacy was, afterall, one of the differences between the savages and the civilized men.

“Haberdashery,” was displayed on a crude wooden sign in front of a stall that was manned by gaunt women. In a shrill voice, an old harpy was hawking her bone and horn buttons, as well as some crude iron tools. Satisfied that I understood the sign and was uninterested in her wares, I continued on, putting one foot in front of another, avoiding the dirtier patches of the thoroughfare as I followed our little urchin.

With Elwin’s recent betrayal still fresh in my mind, I needed a distraction. To that end, I decided to use Identify on the small girl, wanting to know exactly how much of a burden the old man had placed upon me. I cast the spell out like a net, and the lines of energy found purchase across the child’s form, to feed my mind’s curiosity.

Larynda - Chaos Mage (Human/Elf lvl.5) Health 32/32 Stamina 9/21

Mana 19/19

Looking over the information, I saw that she would fall over to a stiff breeze. However, she had even more Mana than my late friend, Amon Vanes. Was that because of her unique heritage as the spawn of an unnatural coupling? Was I dealing with a precocious little genius? More to the point, what exactly was a Chaos Mage? It sounded suspiciously like a unique and powerful class.

As I looked over the information, I bumped into a man who fell into the mud. He looked up at me and cursed as he got to his feet. Angry and dirtied, he began to reach for a large belt knife at his waist. But something in my expression, or Kidu’s looming presence, stilled him and he simply gathered himself and moved off, muttering.

Was Elwin a loose end? Again, what on earth was a Chaos Mage anyway? These worries and questions followed me as the little one led us to an area filled with baying beasts and people from many different races going about their business. Quite a few were different from the locals, the hue of their skin and the cast of their eyes telling of their different origins. Here I could see a muscular man loading up what looked to be a gigantic snub-nosed alligator with heavy leather bags. These he tied to the spines that flowed along its back on each side with complicated knots. Across from me, I saw a woman berating a child who had strayed too close to the cage of some sort of shadowy creature. The mysterious being trapped behind the bars bristled and gave off an aura of raw menace that seemed to absorb the very light surrounding it.

Larynda navigated her way through the organized chaos, pulling us in her wake. Sensing that the Hunter was only a few words from violence, the busy people gave him a wide berth and thus it was easy to follow the girl, even through the press of the crowd.

These sights and many more captivated my senses before we arrived in a section of the caravanserai that was positively bursting with royal color. Purple could be seen everywhere, from the tents to the garments that the members of the caravan wore. Even the guards that were lounging beside a small fire sat on purple cushions. Near them was a six-legged lizard beast, whose closest analog, in my mind, would be the ankylosaur from Earth’s ancient past. It had a purple gold caparison, trimmed with gold, and purple tassels adorned the sharp spikes that ran along its armored hide.

The beast lowed mournfully, shaking slightly as it smashed its heavy mace of a tail onto the hard-packed earth in a show of irritation at its handlers. A bearded man soothed the beast with gentle words as he rubbed under its chin and fed the large animal a red fruit. All around me was a veritable show of purple and it was clear that we had arrived at our objective.

Larynda asked a few people the whereabouts of the master of the caravan, Laes Harevor. We followed their terse directions to find the turbaned man sitting on a stool, reading a hefty tome. Upon seeing us, he closed his heavy leatherbound book and placed it into a thick metal-bound chest. He smiled first at Larynda before looking at the rest of our group with a quizzical expression.

He was a medium-built man just past the cusp of his middle years and gone to seed. Laughter marked the corners of his eyes, which sparked with mirth, born from a jest known only to him. His clothes were like those of the Bedouin tribes of the great Sahara, flowing in their elegant cut and stained with a faded purple. Hair, once probably thick and dark, was dulled by countless years of traveling under the harsh sun and was beginning to recede. This seemed to add to the length of his face and, combined with his square chin, gave an equine cast to his features.

“Ah, honored sirs. What business have you with the Ravens?” he asked in a surprisingly high tenor.

“You’re Laes Harevor, right!? You look just as fancy like the old Ham said you would!” squeaked our little package, her voice muffled by the scarf that covered her mouth.

“So, child, I ask again of you, what business do you have with me?” he asked once more, straightening his back and preening a little over the compliment as he scratched the side of his nose.

Larynda, losing some of her earlier verve, now that she had been asked a direct question, nudged my elbow.

“We seek passage to the city of Al-Lazar. I have been told that your good company often makes the trip. We wish to join you,” I said in my most polite and neutral tone, doing my best to curb my annoyance at the child’s earlier outburst.

“You are welcome to join us, the fee is four silvers a head, and since this young one has impeccable taste I’ll throw in two meals a day. Travel rations mind you. We leave two days hence,” he offered with a practiced professional smile.

“No, we must leave immediately. It is of the utmost importance. There can be no delay,” I said flatly, my voice tight and forceful.

“Young man, we have business to attend, here in Ansan. The caravan does not simply move at the whims…” the master of the caravan began to bluster.

As instructed by Hamsa, and not wanting to waste any more time, I silenced him by pulling out the knotted silken string and showing it to him. The man’s eyes grew wide for a moment in apprehension and surprise, but he quickly gathered himself and settled back into a relaxed mien.

“That is a Timekeeper Knot. I acknowledge this,” he finally delivered, voice monotone as if repeating lines by rote. His hands ran reverently along the length of silk, whispering to himself as if reading some imparted message. The whole exchange had the feeling of a religious ritual. One I was completely ignorant of, no less.

He went to his chest, opened its heavy lid, and felt around inside. In a few moments, he found two small delicate crystal vials, about the size and length of my ring finger, and placed one of them into my right hand. The other, the man simply quaffed down before throwing the silk into a nearby brazier that suddenly gave off a sick acrid-smelling yellow smoke.

“The blazes… What is this?” I asked incredulously, thinking that I just received some sort of reward from a hidden quest.

“We thank you for the message. It is heard. This is the deliverance,” he answered me, directing my attention to the vial with his eyes.

“What is ‘the deliverance’ that you speak of? You wish for me to drink this potion?” I said, utterly perplexed. Things had moved on from the hallowed air of religious ritual. Now, it felt as If I was part of some theater. Unfortunately, the script was unknown to me, which served to only heighten my growing irritation.

“Ahh… a gull,” Laes concluded with a tight smile, “Hamsa, ever was his knotwork flawless. Let me explain, all messengers entrusted with such a task are given the slow kiss of the vow-poison upon their skin. Tailored to specification, the poison itself is harmless for a few days or hours. In the old days, if the message reached its intended destination, an antidote would have been given. This is simply the antidote to that poison. Pardon me, but if you are truly ignorant of its significance, then… all I can say is that proud old fool was prepared to make you pay the ultimate price if you reneged on whatever promise you had made with him,” he answered, his expression resembling a buck-toothed shark. “The token you have delivered unto me, it was a token the most solemn of vow of duty - that imperial messengers of old would do or die to get a message to its destination”

In shock, I looked to Larynda who was loitering to my left. Her eyes met mine for a moment, before she looked away in childish shame. She had known of the poison and said nothing.

Kidu grasped the haft of his spear tighter. I knew from the lines of his body and the narrowing of his eyes that he was preparing for violence. Laes’ confession was all the confirmation I needed to know that I had been played by Hamsa. I was getting tired of this world’s childish games, and I felt a sudden surge of the festering frustration that had been growing inside of me.

Sometimes if you did not understand the rules of a game, it was often the best choice to flip the board. I had grown since coming to these cursed lands. I had options.

I kept a forced smile on my face. The smug look of superiority on Harevor’s face, I saw as nothing less than a direct insult that would be remedied one day. Nothing that came out of his perfidious mouth could be trusted, so I searched inside of myself for an answer. My Constitution and Rest? Would that be the answer, could I simply take the hit? Regenerate damage to my Health by literally sleeping off the poison? Too risky. If the poison was something like a time-delayed cyanide then I would be finished in mere moments. The risk was too great? Cyanide? What was that again… Should I take the proffered vial? But, that could simply be another trick. Could I simply Heal or Greater Heal myself out of the condition? No, that did not feel right.

Then, there it was, the Purify spell. A staple for Paladins for cleansing certain conditions. However, would a level two spell be enough to counteract the delayed poison that was probably running through my veins? In my fear, I imagined a small twinge in the hand that had held the string.

Sweat must have been running down my brow as I kept a fixed expression on my face, and Laes and Larynda looked at me with worried expressions on their faces. Perhaps it was the effect of the poison, or the sudden shock making my brain go this way and that to reach a solution, but time seemed to slow down. Not wanting to show a single card in my hand, I forced magic to come silently, a slow song of a bright light that rushed to my core before spreading to my extremities. Then I felt the burn. My Pain Nullification skill kept the pain at bay, while Purify’s fire coursed through my veins, burning the impurities that dared to intrude into the sanctity of my temple. I acknowledged the pain’s existence, without truly feeling it.

I suffered a single point of damage and I hissed sharply from the surprise rather than any suffered hurt, which Laes might have taken for a threat. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Kidu’s hand had moved closer to the knife at his belt, a better weapon for dealing out brutality in these close quarters.

Something about the spell, the initial imparted knowledge that came with it, told me that magic was successful. Would I have to live the rest of my life here casting the Purify spell? I shook my head, no, that way led only to paranoia and a slow descent into madness.

Time suddenly resumed its inexorable slide to normality, and I simply smiled a smug grin at the caravan master as I handed him back the vial.

“Please, you must take it. It is far too early for you to fight the war in heaven,” he almost shouted as he tried to refuse it, misunderstanding my actions.

“An antidote will not be necessary. But, we will be moving now,” my expression and tone, I hope, filled with whatever menace I could contrive.

I must have done something impressive, for the world itself rewarded me with a most welcome notification.

You have gained 1 Strength. You have gained 1 Charisma.

A few more points of Health and Stamina were always welcome. The increase in Charisma, however, was harder to pin down. A puzzling thing to be sure, for I had no idea how, exactly, it aided my situation and ‘build’. If, somehow, Charisma affected how much I could influence the people of the world, then they perhaps, in turn, could influence me. Was it some form of passive mind control that stole my agency? A most worrying thought indeed.

I looked at the ugly caravan master, the wheels in my mind turning at an infuriated pace. Had the attribute aided in bargaining for a faster departure? Or was this simply a result of showing him the poisoned item I had received from Hamsa? I hated variables that I could not categorically measure.

Laes simply nodded, absolutely dumbstruck at this new turn of events, muttering something that sounded like ‘Vanda Venny’ or some such nonsense, before he began shouting instructions at his workers. I took a second to glance in his direction, assuring him with a nod that all was well.

This part of the caravanserai turned into an upturned beehive of activity, as men, women, and beasts jostled with each other as they made their preparations for a sudden departure. The caravan’s master had to assure several people that all was well, to encourage them to get back to work to get ready to depart. Getting out of the way of their industry, my small group moved to the side next to some wooden crates. My heart, now emptied of poison, was filled with thoughts of yet another betrayal. One day Hamsa, there will be a reckoning, I promised myself.

Among the whirlwind of activity, I watched Laes as he apologized to a group of men clad in fine orange silk deels and yellow sashes, all of them filled with their own self-importance. Head bowed and both palms pressed against the back of his head, he said something to them in a language I had yet to learn. Soon after he had apologized, and one of them pocketed a small purse from Laes. Was that a form of apology in this culture? One of my hands subconsciously moved to the back of my head in sympathetic mimicry before I noticed Larynda looking at me. I lowered my hand, feeling a little embarrassed.

“You knew,” I said to the air.

“Errr… yes… but the old Ham said it would all be fine. His words exact as I remember ‘em ‘If you don’t dilly dally with that Gilgamesh fellow, then there’s nothing to be afear’ of s’like’,” she piped and sputtered, before looking down at the ground dejectedly, “an’ thank you I guess.”

I glanced over my status, blocking everything out except the information that I sought.

Experience to next level 2978/3202

Health282/288 Stamina56/63 Mana12/15

Well, at least the whole ordeal had given me some nominal experience at the cost of three Mana, a fair trade if there had not been the risk of death. Something about the small girl's demeanor and words tugged a little at the strings of the heart, and I suddenly felt a small bud of sympathy grow. Was this a normal emotion to be feeling toward a person that could have caused my death through the lies of omission? A small voice said, in the back of my mind, sharp and oily in its insistence.

Abandon the girl, or not? For surely she was to be the albatross around my neck. However, Kidu made the decision for us, as one of his large hands gently patted the little girl’s head, and the unexpected act almost caused her to cry. She looked up at him, and Patches gave her face a slobbering lick, causing her to give out a weak morose laugh.

It was this simple animal’s trust that had convinced me to trust her, too. The creatures that men tame had instincts that could see through base human deception. She would have the benefit of the doubt, for the time being at least. We would have a deep discussion later, once we had put some distance between us and this forsaken city.

My quest was not yet over.