Continued from here...
For the next few days, after managing to sneak into the Forest of Stones once more, Kalortah braved the dangers of the angry ghosts and lived off of the land largely. While the bard wasn’t used to living rough on a regular basis, he had to make do there. It wouldn’t have been his first time camping, and would certainly not be the last, if his wandering ways had anything to say about it.
He was making a small camp in an outcropping of a cliff, near to where they were holding his grandfather. He’d instructed his familiar to report any news, such as if they moved him, did anything to his body, or if he was in poor health.
The bard began weaving vines and leaves into a makeshift leanto, a shield that would protect him against the oppressive rays of the suns and the elements. It wasn’t much, but it’d have to do for what his purpose was.
Far above him, on the plateau, Ravkel was being held by those avriel extremists. Kalortah had learned more about them in the days since. That they were rounding up mages, extrajudiciously. Taking them out of their homes, out of the pit of reflection, wherever they could be found and vulnerable. Ravkel was just the latest among these victims, which serendipitously fell to Kalortah to learn about.
”My Glory?” Came the telepathic thought of his familiar. He’d thought about giving the bird spirit a name of some sort, but figured this would be a good chance for the creature to earn it.
”Yes?” Kalortah returned.
”They’ve been sticking him with strange wooden needles… I can’t tell what kind of wood they are, but why doesn’t your grandfather fight them with his magics?”
”Hmmm…” Kalortah mused, as he erected the leanto, to cover him from the sun’s rays. The rocks provided complete cover from the elements, in the grotto that he’d chosen to lay up.
Perhaps these splinters were connected somehow with his loss of magic. Eventually, Kalortah would have to reach out to his grandfather, but he didn’t wish to expose himself to their attention. For obvious reasons that would be disastrous, and Kalortah wasn’t exactly skilled or equipped to deal with a large group of angry avriel.
No, he would have to bide his time, and try to make himself known to his grandfather.
So he sat in his shaded grotto, the alcove that had been carved from the clifface, and tried to see through his familiar’s eyes. To envision the sights, sounds, and everything else that went into the subtle emotional signals returning from that creature.
No luck. Kalortah wasn’t a great spiritualist, at least not yet.
So he did the next best thing. ”Try to make yourself noticed to Ravkel. He would recognize you.”
The familiar found Ravkel crucified, his body splayed against a cross, with his wings exposed to the open air. His feathers had been torn, or else fallen off in advanced stages of aloplumia. Perhaps it was the latter, for the familiar couldn’t see any blood.
The owl landed just several meters from where he faced, and hopped around on the ground. It tried to make itself known while his captors had left him to the elements. They were off, tending to other captives or plotting their next move. They didn’t dare brave the skies, for fear of being struck with aloplumia themselves, or by the ghosts roaming those skies.
Eventually, Ravkel did come to, and lifted his head enough to see the owl. That done, he nodded his head.
The familiar, having taken this sign of recognition, prompted it to jump up onto Ravkel’s shoulder.
Ravkel whispered into it’s ear, transmitting a message directly to Kalortah, as he would know to do.
My boy… Kalortah received, I have the aloplumia. There’s no hope for me, but perhaps the city can yet be saved from this terrible plague.
Kalortah bit into his hand, trying to reign in his emotions at the fate that had befallen his grandfather and mentor. Had the old man given up already?
But we will deliver righteous justice to these wretches, who’ve strung me to this cross. There’s a trinket in my burrow, a ring of reversal it’s called… I will need you to retrieve it. But beware, I think there are folk guarding my old place against allies that I might call to…
You’re the only one that has so far heeded my call, the messenger I sent along. So I suppose I’m alone in this world but for you.
While you’re retrieving the ring, have your blessed familiar pluck these splinters from my back and replace them backwards into the wounds… They are from the Livlos tree. They and a magical mixture they’re dipped in keep my magical energies from replenishing, to the point where I cannot fight back.
Yet I will not fight back even should my energies come to. There is something I need to accomplish here, and only can be done with the full abrogative might of my spark. My spark, and your spark.
Now, when you find that ring… Put it on. I hear them coming, we must not fail. Go now, send your familiar forth to your location.
Having received the warning, he called his owl back to him, away from Ravkel. Kalortah had in fact been watching them for a few days, and figured out more or less their rotation, between the time when one guard left and one arrived.
He knew when to strike, but he needed to follow his grandfather’s instructions. It must be important.
So he cast aside his leanto, and flew off into the jungles below. He remembered the way well enough, going by the old landmarks that had led him to that grotto, so many seasons ago.
He had his familiar fly ahead, however, once it had returned to him. It scouted the way, to make sure there were no enemies stationed outside.
Kalortah alighted to the ground, an outcropping just behind the grotto, and recieved the familiar’s signals. ”Glory, there are men, human men stationed outside the grotto.”
Humans? This was troubling. Were the avriel in league with others?
Kalortah sighed to himself, and felt for the handle of his saber,on his belt. He drew it with one hand, and with the other gripped a heavy stone. In one swift flap of his wings he flew up into the air above the treelines.
Using the familiar’s scan of the area, he aimed the rock at the entrance, to try and distract the humans if not hit them. The rock sailed through the air, down below.
There, it collided with the ground as expected, drawing their attention for just the moment that Kalortah would need.
Kalortah made a dive then, spinning in the air to speed his descent. Within moments he was in front of the humans, and he screamed at them with all the power of his voice.
Taken aback, the humans had only moments to draw their own weapons before Kalortah was on them with his saber. The flash of steel drew red blood from one guard, then the other. In seconds they were down, taken by surprise as they were.
Kalortah inspected their bodies, looking for familiar insignia or holy symbols. They were apparently with the Cult of Valtharn.
What?! Why are avriel cavorting with these cultists? Kalortah’s thoughts raged at the very idea.
Nevertheless, he went to the hidden cache his grandfather had told him about, and retrieved the ring, which he promptly put on his finger. The owl fluttered to his shoulder then, and Kalortah looked at it. ”You must go back to Ravkel. Now, and do as he bid us to. Pluck every splinter, and replace it backward in those wounds. No matter how much he cries or curses you, do it. Now go!”
Having commanded his familiar, Kalortah went over to the meditation chamber of his grandfather’s hut, and just sat for a moment, contemplating the situation, and the involvement of the Cult of Valtharn in this scheme.
He would see them pay, one way or another, and bring an end to this Etherdeath that brought the plague of aloplumia.
One way or another, the Avriel would have their vengeance against the meddling of the Valtharnites.
Having determined their fates for himself, Kalortah left his grandfather’s grotto, and took to the skies once more, flying off toward the cliffs where he’d left his leanto.
The air was still sweltering, with nary a cloud in the sky as he made his way back. There in the rocky crevices of the cliffside, he made himself as comfortable as was possible, and plotted his next step.
He regarded the ring on his finger, gold with a singular black pearl on it. He hadn’t the slightest idea what this ring did, or why his grandfather wished for him to put it on. But supposed he’d find out soon enough.
