Asad took a seat on the edge of his bed and rubbed his forehead, trying to think. If he was being completely honest with himself, he had no idea what he was doing, bringing the Rainlords to Dunehall. Sure, the Vanguard wouldn’t find them here, but how was he supposed to explain this to Abbas and the others? It was only a matter of time before they found out.
And of course, there was still the matter of the Rainlords themselves. Hopefully, they would be able to reach a peaceful solution concerning Ibai, but if that didn’t happen, then Dunehall might well become their new battleground. Asad just hoped he wasn’t a fool for trusting them in this place.
He hadn’t visited Dunehall in months, but it wasn’t for lack of wanting to. Really, he would have liked to simply live here again, but his wife’s family lived in Kuros, and for most women, that might have given them cause to leave, but not for her. Samira was very much a daddy’s girl. Asad had tried bringing her here after their marriage, but it made her miserable, and her happiness was much more important than his nostalgia. And besides, Kuros wasn’t so terrible. It just didn’t really feel like home to him, even after twenty years--or at least, not like Moaban did.
It felt a shame to leave Dunehall without a Najir to watch over it, but he’d tried passing the reins over to Haqq or Imas, and to his surprise, both had refused him. Haqq cared only for the Golden Fort’s research facilities and nothing for tradition; and Imas said she didn’t wish to live so far away from her brothers--an argument Asad could hardly refute, given the sacrifice he was making for his wife.
Dunehall, therefore, had passed into the hands of the lesser lord Yasir Faheem, a blustery man who had been following Asad around for much of the evening and rambling about so many different things at such high speeds that Asad had only caught about half of them. Most of it had been assurances that the staff in Dunehall had been doing their jobs thoroughly and properly.
There came a knock at Asad’s door, and he half expected it to be Faheem again. “Enter,” he said in Mohssian.
Orjand phased through the door before Imas opened it and followed, closing it again behind her.
A dark serial novel. Set in a modern fantasy world called Eleg. Mature language. Updates every day at noon PST by ~400 words.
Tuesday, March 3, 2015
Page 994
‘You are more or less correct,’ said Qorvass, ‘but there was also more to it than just that.’
‘Oh?’ said Garovel.
‘It is an oft repeated tale that the Dry God was a fool who mistakenly ended his own life, but that is untrue. Rasalased knew exactly what he was doing. He had been searching for a way to die for some time, but as you said, he worried what would become of his people. He made the Shards for his successor, who by that point, was already powerful enough to use them.’
‘I see. Did you know him personally?’
‘Near the end of his life, yes. I took one of his grandchildren as my servant for a time.’
Hector wondered how that relationship had turned out, but it seemed an impolite thing to ask, and of course, if the servant wasn’t here now, then Hector didn’t imagine that it could have ended well.
Hector eyed the Shards again. He’d considered them beautiful before, but now that he knew the story behind them, that they were the remains of a person, he found them rather unsettling. Perhaps that deeply red hue of theirs was no mere coincidence.
Garovel had another question, though. ‘So how powerful does Asad have to become in order for the Shards to reactivate?’
Qorvass was silent a moment. ‘Please do not be offended. I’m sure you can appreciate why I would not wish to share such information.’
‘Ah. Well, I guess that’s better than lying to me.’
-+-+-+-+-
Asad soon returned to his room on his own. He was glad to see Qorvass getting along with another reaper so quickly for a change, but there was nothing about their conversation that Asad didn’t already know. He’d only accompanied Qorvass to the gallery in order to make sure their guests had no designs on stealing anything.
Qorvass always worried about the Shards. It didn’t seem to matter that no one had been able to use them in more than seven hundred years or that hardly any non-Sandlords remembered their existence. Still, the reaper’s concern was not without justification, of course. The Shards had indeed been stolen many times in the past, always from some kind of super vault or otherwise absurdly guarded chamber. That had apparently been a difficult lesson for Asad’s predecessors to learn: if the wrong person came for them, it would not matter how many thick walls were in the way. It was better to hide them until they were forgotten.
Now that Garovel had demonstrated memory of the Shards, however, Qorvass would probably insist they be relocated again.
‘Oh?’ said Garovel.
‘It is an oft repeated tale that the Dry God was a fool who mistakenly ended his own life, but that is untrue. Rasalased knew exactly what he was doing. He had been searching for a way to die for some time, but as you said, he worried what would become of his people. He made the Shards for his successor, who by that point, was already powerful enough to use them.’
‘I see. Did you know him personally?’
‘Near the end of his life, yes. I took one of his grandchildren as my servant for a time.’
Hector wondered how that relationship had turned out, but it seemed an impolite thing to ask, and of course, if the servant wasn’t here now, then Hector didn’t imagine that it could have ended well.
Hector eyed the Shards again. He’d considered them beautiful before, but now that he knew the story behind them, that they were the remains of a person, he found them rather unsettling. Perhaps that deeply red hue of theirs was no mere coincidence.
Garovel had another question, though. ‘So how powerful does Asad have to become in order for the Shards to reactivate?’
Qorvass was silent a moment. ‘Please do not be offended. I’m sure you can appreciate why I would not wish to share such information.’
‘Ah. Well, I guess that’s better than lying to me.’
-+-+-+-+-
Asad soon returned to his room on his own. He was glad to see Qorvass getting along with another reaper so quickly for a change, but there was nothing about their conversation that Asad didn’t already know. He’d only accompanied Qorvass to the gallery in order to make sure their guests had no designs on stealing anything.
Qorvass always worried about the Shards. It didn’t seem to matter that no one had been able to use them in more than seven hundred years or that hardly any non-Sandlords remembered their existence. Still, the reaper’s concern was not without justification, of course. The Shards had indeed been stolen many times in the past, always from some kind of super vault or otherwise absurdly guarded chamber. That had apparently been a difficult lesson for Asad’s predecessors to learn: if the wrong person came for them, it would not matter how many thick walls were in the way. It was better to hide them until they were forgotten.
Now that Garovel had demonstrated memory of the Shards, however, Qorvass would probably insist they be relocated again.
Sunday, March 1, 2015
Page 993
‘That is largely correct,’ said Qorvass. ‘We have never had “kings,” per se, but we did believe that individuals with a certain power had been chosen to guide our people.’
Hector put two and two together and looked at Asad, who was busy yawning and hardly even seemed to be paying attention.
‘Such individuals are historically quite rare,’ Qorvass went on. ‘They usually appear only once in five generations. Oftentimes longer. There were several instances where we went without a clear leader for extended periods of time. But then the gods decided to play a cruel prank on us, and three children manifested the divine ability in the span of a single year.’
‘I suppose it would’ve been too much to ask for them to just rule together,’ said Garovel dryly.
‘The children themselves were not the real problem,’ said Qorvass. ‘They were children. They did as their Hahls told them. And each Hahl feared--perhaps quite correctly--that one of the other two Hahls would betray them for power. And precaution became escalation, and escalation became war.’
Hector still didn’t understand something. “But, er... uh, how did the Shards factor in?”
‘The Shards are powerful catalysts for servant abilities,’ said Garovel. ‘And they work for anyone, divine power or no. They would even work for you, for instance. But there is a catch.’
Hector was not surprised.
‘They fall dormant when there remains no living person who wields the Sandlord’s divine ability with sufficient skill.’
“Uh... not sure I understand...”
‘It has to do with the way they were made,’ said Garovel. ‘The so-called “Dry God” was, in truth, just another person who happened to have the divine ability. Like our good friend Asad here.’
Asad matched Hector’s gaze evenly. His expression seemed somehow sad.
‘The Dry God’s real name was Rasalased, and he was one of the most powerful servants of his age,’ said Garovel. ‘The story goes that he was so powerful and so heavily relied upon by his people that he became terrified of what would happen to them if he were ever killed in battle. As was known to happen. So he created the Shards, hoping that they would help keep the Sandlords safe after he was gone. The only problem was that in order to create them, he had to fuse his soul with his ability so completely that he turned himself to crystal. Which killed both him and his reaper, ironically.’
Hector put two and two together and looked at Asad, who was busy yawning and hardly even seemed to be paying attention.
‘Such individuals are historically quite rare,’ Qorvass went on. ‘They usually appear only once in five generations. Oftentimes longer. There were several instances where we went without a clear leader for extended periods of time. But then the gods decided to play a cruel prank on us, and three children manifested the divine ability in the span of a single year.’
‘I suppose it would’ve been too much to ask for them to just rule together,’ said Garovel dryly.
‘The children themselves were not the real problem,’ said Qorvass. ‘They were children. They did as their Hahls told them. And each Hahl feared--perhaps quite correctly--that one of the other two Hahls would betray them for power. And precaution became escalation, and escalation became war.’
Hector still didn’t understand something. “But, er... uh, how did the Shards factor in?”
‘The Shards are powerful catalysts for servant abilities,’ said Garovel. ‘And they work for anyone, divine power or no. They would even work for you, for instance. But there is a catch.’
Hector was not surprised.
‘They fall dormant when there remains no living person who wields the Sandlord’s divine ability with sufficient skill.’
“Uh... not sure I understand...”
‘It has to do with the way they were made,’ said Garovel. ‘The so-called “Dry God” was, in truth, just another person who happened to have the divine ability. Like our good friend Asad here.’
Asad matched Hector’s gaze evenly. His expression seemed somehow sad.
‘The Dry God’s real name was Rasalased, and he was one of the most powerful servants of his age,’ said Garovel. ‘The story goes that he was so powerful and so heavily relied upon by his people that he became terrified of what would happen to them if he were ever killed in battle. As was known to happen. So he created the Shards, hoping that they would help keep the Sandlords safe after he was gone. The only problem was that in order to create them, he had to fuse his soul with his ability so completely that he turned himself to crystal. Which killed both him and his reaper, ironically.’
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)