Theurgy: Forsaken Oaths

Chapter 6 Antalya

          Antalya has fallen. The seeds of progress it once held to, its relations with Hath turned to dust and dreams. The once bright capital of trade amongst the southern oceans has crumbled, and in their wake was a husk of what could have been Hath's most outstanding achievement. It was broken. Left to the will of an uncaring warlord, and even afterward silent neglect. But where there is neglect, there are those willing to use the "could haves" and the "must have been" for themselves. It did not take long before influential minds and hands seized from the shadows all they could covet from the light and plunged Antalya into a new age, where the influence of the Underlords dwarfed the officials' authority. Underlord Tuk, Underlord Ez, Underlord Culmin. These under lords have made the underbelly of this once prosperous city their home and wished not to waste anything. They wanted to squeeze this city dry of all it could be. But Underlord Bok, his ambition drove a lot deeper than his constituents. No, he wished not to take this city for what it's worth; he wanted to save it. Bok saw an empire of his own, under his rule and control. And so, he became an Underlord as well. But somehow, Bok could go where others couldn't. He evaded the law far more efficiently, getting connections out to smugglers, the highest classes of these, and the most significant access to arms from even the heavily sought-after magic of Torlak. And his influence grew incongruent. It came so that even the authority of the Viceroy herself could not stop him, as he retained himself to the shadows well.

       What kept Bok alive was knowing where to put his bets, where to go, and where not to go. His den, his fortress deep in the forgotten undercity beneath Antalya, served as his hub and where he intends to build his throne. Seldom are allowed to meet with this elusive figure. And among these rare individuals is Veronica Timbleton. She alone now approaches his dwellings. Afraid? No. Anxious? Maybe. Curious? Yes. He rarely summons her himself, and rarely is it this private. She stopped before his door. In this dimly lit area, she could barely make out the two shadowy figures standing before her. Just seeing them has struck some dark chord within her she could not comprehend. But they posed no threat to her, she supposed. They were just guards, gifted to Bok by his mysterious business partners over a year ago. They were silent but highly deadly, as she could attest to. She thought better not to think about them and walk past them as if they did not exist. Instead, she pushed open the doors into a large room, barely lit with more than candles here and there, and a chandelier above that casted blue light upon a shadowy figure sitting at the edge of a table. That was Bok. She stopped just before the opposite end of the table, hearing the doors close behind her, as it was just her and him now.

      "Sit," he spoke in a stern and rumbling tone. Veronica did so, though she placed her guns on the table as a simple gesture of respect.

     "You called me, sir?"

      "Yes," the light of a match temporarily lit a masked face, hiding all but piercing eyes before a cigar was kindled and placed in his mouth. "Did you hear? Something was stolen from that warlord inland. A significant thing I suppose."

      "I heard," she said. "Stolen in under an hour, rumor says. So what do you want me to do about it."

     A mist of smoke seeped from him, quickly filling the room with a dizzying scent. "I have deals, Veronica. I always have deals. I stay out of individual hairs unless I want to and when I'm sure it would be worth it. That Warlord and I were this close to settling a deal, and then, all of a sudden, this thing was taken. And the word is it's one of your men who ordered the theft."

     Sudden fear arose in her as she kept her voice from shaking too much. "I-If it's that much trouble, I can get it back, Sir Bok. So you need not worry."

     "It's too late," he said. "If the man was smart, he long sold it away. It's too late for redemption, it's time for punishment."

      "Tell me what to do, and I'll do it," she said. " lI'll gladly get rid of the bastard who ruins deals for you, and you know that."

    "Yes, I do," Bok said softly. "Veronica, the man's name is Ali, a local rat. I want you to take him, make him tell us where he sent the thing off to, and kill him. And the man he hired to do it. Simple enough for you?"

     "Understood," Veronica said and stood, tucking her two hand cannons away in their holsters. "Leave it to me, please."

      "You've got a week," he said. "Don't disappoint me."

(X)

       Ryan stood on the roof of the orphanage. It has been a few days since his return, and the more he sees, the more things he saw to repair about this broken home he left behind before. Avery was away now with Zeke to find someone in the labor district to fix the place and install a door. He gave them a reasonable amount, though he noticed a bit of disdain from Zeke as he handed Avery the coin. Labor is cheap, but good delivery will take convincing to get a hold of. And Ryan has learned that money is the simplest of motivation and the most infectious. And while they are gone, he will be watching over the kids as they occupy the street. So instead of kicking around a deflated sack, he got them an actual ball to play around with, that being a hard leather sac fashioned by a teacher into one. There isn't much in the way of entertainment, so the children were creative. They no doubt would have coped without his offering, but they were reasonably pleased with it nonetheless. Ryan even started cooking for them again. He was always better than any of the others, and he enjoyed the hobby. Even Zeke's irate attitude seemed to melt when he had something hot in his stomach momentarily. Who knows, maybe they can actually patch things up between the two of them and move forward from their petty grievances. Who knows.

   But for now, Ryan had no time to be lounging around. Every morning he gets to the roof not just to keep an eye on the kids; there were plenty of older ones to do just that but to continue training. He felt the urge to continue honing himself, even if it was merely to protect his home; he can not neglect his body, that lesson had been drilled deep within him, and among the few studies, he carries from his home. His former home. The routines were relatively strenuous but straightforward all the same. Mostly with honing his ability with Avra, this sacred source of power gifted to him and all. He could leap far distances, high into the sky. He was making himself as light as a feather to float his way down gently. Of course, he could do the opposite, regulate his weight as he sees fit. These were all pretty standard with what they taught to most knights in the empire, at least those he has heard of. But Ryan felt that he was different, somehow. The energy in his body is extra from true avra. And as he sees the faint trails of a pale light evaporate in the air before him, he finds himself once more drawn to the youth that he knew—the naive boy who practiced diligently every day.

     Days were far less confusing, as some may say for any child's experience. He is still a virgin to the world, yet expected to conquer the highest mountains by his parent's will. What little he remembers of this day, he holds fondly and leaves behind the shame of painful memories. He remembers one particular day. He was used to his mother's and father's absence, and they were essential people, after all, so they couldn't always tend to them as they must, leaving him in the care of his uncle. He wasn't the smartest of kids, but he had his wits, and he could pass any test before him with little knowledge beforehand, do his drills or find some clever loophole to wonder the sparse forests of their home, or roam the libraries and halls to find mischief wherever it sleeps. And when his mother did return, he found wonder in their recollection of events, purposefully worded to regale him of what was out there. He wished to join his parents one day like his sister sometimes did whenever she returned from her studies abroad. By this time, she had been gone for nearly half the year, and he misses her so. But, as she told him, he comes here every day to practice his talents of aura. Like many bearing the name of Pesmenos, the mastery of aura came naturally to him, which is also why his sister was submitted to be the apprentice in Torlak to learn magic. 

     He knew little of the arcane besides what one may call parlor tricks. No, his use of aura was the same then as now. He remembers struggling to channel even a drop, to do the most minuscule of tasks, trying to climb trees and lift heavy rocks all day. But unbeknownst to him, this day was to be full of surprises. As he was striking a tree over and over again, feeling the skin on his knuckles blister open and his heart pound with effort as aura multiplied his power, he felt someone saddle up next to him. Still in the heat of the moment, he turned on his heel to deliver a kick to their midsection.  He hit something, but it wasn't until he saw his sister hit the ground on her butt did he change his stance, moving to help her up as she brushed herself off.

     "Well, you're getting stronger," she said, groaning as she rubbed her side. She was still holding most of her supplies from traveling, and her horse was not too far away. She adjusted her glasses, allowing her to focus those grey eyes upon him.

        "Cara," he hugged his sister firmly, though careful not to inflict further injuries. She chuckled as she patted his back. "I thought you weren't supposed to be back in town for a week."

       "Yeah, well, I had a reason to hurry," she said. She smiled brightly at Ryan. She was always intelligent and kind. To him, she was constantly showering him with affection. He backed away as he ran to his small pack near the tree he was just striking and pulled out a small glass ball from it, excitedly waving it before her. "It's the crystal ball I gave you?"

      "Do the thing again," he said.

      "Have you been practicing?" she asked him as she held the ball in her nimble fingers. Almost immediately upon contact, it began to glow like all crystal balls of similar make do when they contact someone with mystical talent. As countless times before, it shone a faint yellow light, like solid beams of radiance danced around one another. First going one way, then another. He remembers being utterly dazzled, especially by how effortlessly she achieved this. She handed him the ball then, encouraging him to try as well. He held the ball between his two hands.

      Ryan had been practicing since she left, though he rarely gets the thing to react, and the few times he does achieve something, it was always so brief he can't tell if it was just his imagination or luck. But he was determined to show her this time what he could do. Ryan focused hard, straining to pour aura into the ball to get it to react, somehow, to him. His teeth gritted, sweat coming down as he tried to focus his aura. It was warned that it should not be forced to flow, only allowed, and Cara was well aware. She meant to stop him, but something happened. Just as she reached to stop Ryan, she saw a flicker of something from the stone. A dark pulse, like the shadow itself, had been captured for a moment before being let go. At that very moment, she snatched the thing out of his hand as he nearly collapsed from the effort, examining it. She looked inside, seeing that same darkness appear for a moment before dissipating into nothing. But left behind, at the heart of the crystal, was a space that was not there before, as if something ate at it from the inside out. 

    "I did it, didn't I?" he asked, trying to get a look at it, but she enclosed the small crystal in his hands before bringing him in close to look at him. She did this from time to time, though he did not know why this was the case. "What's wrong?"

     "Have you been feeling ill, Ryan?" she asked, almost like a doctor checking on her patient.

      "No," her frantic behavior made him quickly nervous. 

      She pulled up his sleeves, revealing a ring of these patterns on his skin near the wrists. She examined them for a moment before looking at him. "Do they feel . . . weird?"

      "No," he said. "Is something wrong?'

      "Nothing," she lied. She looked concerned as ever. "I need to go to my study. Keep up your practice, Ryan. Your studies as well."

     Ryan's sister has been this way for a long time, as long as he can remember. And looking back, there was a sullen look to her whenever she ever spoke to him, and always she would question these bands he still carries. Though now, instead of one on each arm, that number has increased to six. He didn't like showing them to people. Questions were too uncomfortable, especially since he did not have the answers. So he covered them as often as possible. He looked down at them, bare now, these rings of rues and symbols he couldn't begin to comprehend, and yet he felt that they were there for a reason. He only wishes he could have gotten answers from his sister when he had the chance.

     Ryan looked over the ledge, the children playing outside of the house. He sent Zeke and Avery to the worker district nearby to get someone to fix up the house. He hoped that because they were doing it themselves, it could appear less like it was. But a small part of him felt guilty, knowing this. Though he has been getting ominous feelings, he didn't feel it was safe to leave the kids. Now that Ryan thinks deeply upon it, he has felt it ever since he got to the city, a type of compulsion that he has never witnessed in his life, and he felt it try to invade his thoughts, penetrate his will. He didn't know what it was, but he could taste it in the air; something was wrong. Be this some omen or other such sign of fortune, and he does not know. Some say that Fate favors no man. But he is curious. He looked out towards the harbor, sparse of ship and cargo. And yet, in the coming month, a fleet shall appear there with builders and artisans and soldiers from Hath to help fix the city. He doubts that anyone knows what this city needs, especially those over the sea such as Hath. But this dread clung onto that thought for him, kept his gaze steady at sea, what dangers are arriving that he must be wary of. What does Fate have in mind for him?

(X)

     "Your time has come. It is time to become a hero, become a godslayer."

      Lyse sighed at the lame gesture; he almost felt like dropping off of Vire right then and there. But, instead, over and over again, he played over this conversation, more on how not to sound crazy more than anything else. "I don't know Vire, what do you think?"

      They were soaring through the outlands at breakneck speeds. Lyse was unsure that ire could even hear him over the immense amount of wind brushing in their face, but he responded with a very disappointing sounding neigh followed by sputters. He knew that pegasi were swift creatures, but he was honestly amazed at how much ground they managed to cover in just a week. They quickly put horses to shame. Even with rests, they managed to travel the Silondras range, down the Outlands and right to the Southern seas in mere days. He was hesitant not to bring much food or survival supplies along, but he could have honestly brought even less with the time they were making so far.

       Lyse sighed. "It's kind of hard trying to sell this whole thing without coming off mad, you know. I dread trying to explain this of gods and evil organizations. It's a rather large seed to swallow. I don't even know why the gods have chosen this man or what his goals are. It has been so long since the gods last contacted me."

     Vire sputtered again, somewhere between encouraging and urgent.

     "Yeah, I can spend a whole day worrying about these things and reach no conclusion," he said. "What's important is what this new godslayer is like. I can hope Fate can be merciful, but I know better. So first things first are I have to know what kind of man he is. That's the first step."

     It's something of note that this man is from the outlands, which in and of itself may present an even more significant challenge. He studied the city's details on his way to Antalya, and he could only guess at its current state of decay. Accounts of merchants passing by were not very generous of their summarization, and it has been hard for enforcers from Hath to wrangle any sort of control away from the various underlords bleeding the city dry. If this new godslayer is under the power of the underlords, where does he go from there? He can wait for the force from Hath to come; hopefully, in that month, he could find and convince this Ryan to join his side. But, all that he knows is that he could feel him, and Fate has decided that it would be him who became the newest godslayer, the godslayer of death. Already, the voice of Maurice, the pendant's previous owner, whispered serious thoughts through him of the terrible fate that awaits all who come to claim the charm. That terrible fate, tucked away in a bit of pouch at his side, beckoning for its owner to claim it. And he would be its precursor. He has taken some witness and account of this fate, and he has stared it in the eye before. He questions how this new godslayer reacts to this destiny thrust upon him, but he now asks what he has to lose in this war. Does he have a home to protect?

      It took him a few moments to realize the scenery suddenly changed about him as his thoughts consumed his mind. Suddenly, Vire was flapping over the city itself now. The low fog obscured the streets, but the early sunbathing the oceans cast rays upon the town, strengthening the shadows it held deep inside.

     "So this is Antalya?" Lyse surveyed the city, creating a map for himself of all the various portions. The town was quite the hurricane, and its immenseness made him envy those who saw it in its prime. What a city of wealth it may have been. "And this is where he comes to?"

     He could feel him, an eerie sense that only got more intense the more he focused on it. Sometimes, if he concentrated, he could turn it off. But now he knew exactly how far away he was, the hand of Fate trying to guide his path. But first, he moved further towards the shore, where the Ingram Bastion now lays. A fortress of some kind, with a large tower dominating the rest of the city and casting a long shadow over all below. It was like a giant took the buildings and pinched them upwards. It made him wonder how a thing could be built. But by the layout, it seemed that this structure was much older than everything around it. In contrast to the elegant and organic architecture of the spire, the surrounding system, the true bastion was low and solid, a model for the rest of the city to follow. There were some taller buildings here and there, most likely the residence of the somewhat wealthier inhabitants of the town. But even they seemed to have been stepped on something big, flattening it out as not to allow it to stand out even more. The spire should be where he can find the authority over this place, A ruler from Hath. He first motioned Vire to come upon the front entrance, but a glance to the docks stopped him. He thought he saw a ship suddenly jerk about, an old merchant vessel, it seemed. But then he saw it begin to sink.

       "You see that, Vire?" Vire waved his face about to look towards the scene. "Bring me around, then head off to the Bastion."

      Vire gave a defiant sputter. 

     "I'll be fine," he said. "Do you forget who claims you?"

     Vire gave a very unimpressed look but did follow directions, bringing Lyse over the ship's wreckage. Immediately, as they descended further and further, Lyse caught wind of the anarchy as sailors and civilians ran fast and quickly from what was occurring. The ship was in pieces, seemingly ripped in half by some incredible force. Town guards, armed with rifles, ran upon the scene, only to find horror waiting for them, as some being from the mist itself slaughtered every man that came upon him. The smoke obstructed his image, but one could see a chain of ethereal visages lash out from this mysterious collection of fog to claim whatever came close. Men fired their guns into the moving cloud, but none could confirm any injury inflicted, as they might as well be fighting this creature blind. The docks were in a bloody panic as orders shouted for any guards to secure the area. But none knew what to do or what this creature was. And any who charged into that fog was sentenced to a death sentence. And things only worsened as another chain lashed out to a nearby ship, attacking furiously at the hull to sink it and any still left aboard the vessel.

      "All your fault!" wailed a pained voice from the mist, filled with pain and anger tangible, and sent mids scattered. "The depths have called you, and I have come to answer. All your fault."

     Vivian Ultair clenched her teeth as yet another Merchant vessel fell, and more men were dragged screaming into watery prisons. She was at a loss. Already fifty men had died, over half of this district's staff in the first few minutes of this sudden encounter. They were used to having sea creatures, the occasional Capricorn or a Lernean Hydra, but nothing as vicious and as intelligent as what was before them now. It fought with mindless effort yet employed such ingenuity. This was no monster for mortal men, and it was the butcher of a different kind. And she could do nothing but watch as one after another found chains around them and then pulled into the white mist to never be seen again.

     "Full back to the streets," she ordered. "Create barriers, and get some heavier equipment, anything out here."

       A large crash as a cart full of crates crashed into a building nearby, and the thing was not slowing down at all. And for a moment. And as it came closer to the streets connecting the docks to the rest of the city, it seemed to quicken its pace even more. But then, they saw a figure, for a moment, a monster twice as tall as any man. And it's a figure all that could be seen till another chain jutted from the clouds to lash out at the commander, past any of her men. None could even react to its speed and intent. But just before it touched her, a glowing blade suddenly fell from the sky and completely blocked its attempt. The chain snapped back, a few links shattered from its link as it recoiled back to its owner. All was in utter disbelief, as the glowing blade that had dug into the ground still showed with the power of avra. And its owner fell to its side to reclaim it.

      "It's a revenant," he said. "They often summon smoke and fall to conceal its figure so that none of the living may recognize it. I've never heard of one that has chains, though. But, on the other hand, there are accounts I suppose of some acquiring certain attributes due to the circumstances of their death."

      Vivian seemed to shake herself from her temporary awe as Lyse pulled free the blade and re-ignited it with pure white light. The men around them were hesitant, not knowing whether he or the threat they faced required their interest.

      "State your name now," she demanded. "Who . . . who are you?"

      "Forgive me," Lyse said after a moment. "I am Lyse Opal. I shall give you further information after I conquer this being. The undead can not be killed by your means, I'm afraid."

     "Undead?" That was all she could comment on as yet another chain lashed out viciously, this time wrapping around the man with a glowing sword before attempting to yank him closer. For a moment, he seemed to be tugged along, but then, he grabbed onto the chain, his hands now glowing as he took his blade and severed it as well. Then, with speed even dwarfing this reverent, he charged right into the fog with neither fear nor hesitation. They all thought him mad, but few knew of the strange abilities of knights. Vivian watched as the mist was illuminated by the light of Lyse and his sword; all they could do but watch. A few moments of pauses, the sound of crashing metal, flashes of light. Lyse did not need sight, and he could see the proper form of the event simply by sensing the aura that came from him. Indeed not of this world, but knights are pretty adept at dealing with such creatures. Embuing anything with avra immediately becomes a dangerous weapon to them. These chains, the extension of the being's will, could quickly be shattered. But he still must be careful. The respectful, though it cannot steal away the souls of others, carries incredible might, and if he allows the chains to hold onto him for too long, he might very well be crushed in that instant. The battle, however, was indeed short-lived, as soon enough, the fog itself dissipated and revealed just Lyse standing over the long rotted corpse of a man at his feet.

      "Interesting," Lyse sheathed his blade, leaning down to the corpse to examine it. "Revenant usually o not awake unless they encounter some strong mystical force that awakens it. There may be something of that sort nearby. If there is anything that could-"

     His questions were seized when he looked up to see over a dozen men with both swords and blades pointed at him now, surrounding him. Vivian stepped forward, an annoyed look on her face as she addressed him. He slowly rose, hands in the air, but she knew that even if they all fired upon him at once, it would barely conjure a nuisance upon him.

      "You are a knight, I presume," she said. "Tell me, what business does the empire have here? This is Hath territory."

      "Forgive me if the news has yet traveled this far," he said. "I am Prince Lyse Opal, of the Liontari clan. I come with haste to aid you and this city, Viceroy. I come along with the envoy that shall be here in the coming month."

   "A prince," her demeanor shifted, hesitant now as she looked around her men, now shaken by his proclamation. But, hey, demeanor immediately shifted, a bit more submissive with weird the charming family in her face as she addressed him. "Forgive me, prince. It was foolish to suspect you. Lower your weapons, men."

     "Well, I did fall from the sky and all that, so who's to blame," he walked forward, holding his hand out to her. "It's a pleasure, Viceroy. I do respect you coming out here to lead your men."

      "W-Well, of course," she eagerly shook his hand, guiding him further away from the scene at hand, motioning for her officers to handle the long rotten corpse. "You know we try our best to lead our men in the best ways possible in Antalya. To be complimented of my efforts is simply the joy of the job."

     "Of course," Lyse said. "But it is rather odd. Are there any powerful mages in the area? They may be the source of this Revenant encounter."

       She coughed, visibly not very fond of the topic, but she did answer him. He sensed she was more interested in ending whatever had occurred here. "There are a few practitioners of the arcane, yes. But all are defunct, not even meeting the criteria of a proper mage, sir. I doubt any one of them could match your descriptions."

     "Perhaps," Lyse said, deciding that this was enough, for now, he can leave the rest in their hands if they are half as capable as they claim to be. Through a respectful, especially one of this power, is not a regular occurrence. Something is amiss. "Would you mind escorting me to your offices, captain? I didn't just come here for leisurely ghost slaying if that is at all surprisingly."

        "Certainly," she said, even more, eager than he at the excuse. She summoned a few other guards to flank him as they went. It seemed all the officers here were equipped with these guns. Not at all surprising, given how close they still were to Hath, getting hands-on such weaponry would be easy enough. They were easier to train with than traditional bows, even crossbows. But it did not solve the problem of encounters that require anyone to use avra, an ability complex to come by this far east. And there are plenty of people with those talents more willing to aid the highest bidder available over life looking after this decrepit city themselves. That import of new officers and such to help rebuild this city may be what it needs to get back up on its feet. Then again, that shall be for the citizenry itself to decide, not any outside force. If they want to change, they will have to change themselves first. Lyse noted that as he followed this Viceroy. Perhaps this new godslayer will struggle with this same thing.

     "You wouldn't happen to know a man that goes by Ryan, would you?"