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[spoiler=Somewhere]
The face - the one of the someone that they might now - catches a faint look of curiosity. There is a sensation. A something.
"Ah. A drawing."
It turns to the one that it might have known, to whom it had been...talking?...for the last million moonrises or so, and sees that same curiosity. Ah.
It turns to look out at the River, the City, towards, probably, the Lady...and a hint to regret floats across its being.
"Ah, well. Not yet."
And ancient silver fades to eternal black.
***
Zed looms over them, hand resting on their shoulders. "Peace, you have returned to the land of the living. The battle was won."
Kazamir's awakening is far more peaceful than he had imagined such a thing would be - more so, even, than returning from stone after the basilisk. His nostrils flare as he draws a deep, deep breath, and his eyes open slowly. A broad, relaxed smile creases his face, more natural than any his friends can ever recall, and his hand finds Zed's on his shoulder, squeezing reassuringly.
"I knew it would be," he says softly, his look at the Dhampir showing pride and congratulations, and not a little satisfaction...a glance clearly saying I chose wisely.
Kazamir sits up and turns to Hazel, opening his mouth, but the memories of the silver river are already like a year-old dream, and he can merely shake is head ruefully.
He sits quietly for a moment, sharing a look and a grateful smile with Vala, getting his bearings, before asking,
"Is there any coffee?"
"They stayed behind to finish investigating the area, while Vala and I brought you here into town. I am sure they must be done by now and on their way back."
"You will be weak until we can manage some restorative magic. Coming back from death is an ordeal, even with the more potent magic that was required to counteract Vrood's necromancy."
"How long have we been dead?" Kazamir asks, a hint of his old crispness coming back to his voice. He fingers his neck-cloth, as if to straighten, then pauses, a questioning, maybe hesitant, maybe disgusted look creeping over his face. He lets go of the cloth, his fingers rubbing as if to scrape something off, and he sniffs delicately. He pats himself down as he stands, shakily, showing some satisfied relief at finding his enchanted haversack at his side.
"It has just occurred to me that, however long it has been, Hazel and I are wearing the clothes that have housed corpses for that period. Hazel, I will give you first call at the bath, if you like..."
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"I can't tell you the precise number of days, I'm afraid. But we are now in Judge Daramid's home and can make what use of it we will. Clean yourselves up and we'll spend the rest of the day and evening here in Leipstadt. In the morning, I'll contact Constantin and determine if we should join them in Feldgrau or if they are bound for us."
---
Later in the evening as the four sit in Daramid's study, Vala interrupts the silence in a voice choked with sorrow. "I- I'm sorry, I need to apologize to you. When Vrood's magic washed over us, I-" her voice breaks at this and she quickly looks down at the floor in shame. When she continues, her voice is small and soft, "I didn't have the means to help either of you then, but even if I did I wouldn't have. I was so fixed on punishing Vrood for all he'd done to- to Petros and Kendra, and to Jonathan too. I- I didn't even realize you'd fallen until after Vrood had stopped breathing." She looks up, tears flowing freely, but her eyes lock with Zed's. "I know it's not how you wanted to handle it, Zed, but I didn't want him in the Boneyard after all he'd done. I still don't. It's too good for him! He doesn't deserve the fairness Pharasma will grant him! I- I'd intended to draw him back to life just to punish him again, over and over if I could, into a different body each time so the pain would be fresh and new. And if I'd had the means, I'd have bound his rotten soul within that shattered, mangled skull of his when I was done and forced him to accompany us and watch as we undid all he strove for in life. And I hate to admit it, but if I were given the opportunity to do it even now, I would."
She wrings her shawl in her hands and looks to Hazel and Kazamir, "I don't know how you'll ever forgive me, but I've been very angry at your both since the four of us set out for Leipstadt. I'd wanted to stay in Feldgrau, so I could punish Vrood, and I blamed you both for the loss of that chance. And when Hora provided those scrolls from the Order, I-" Her voice vanishes in a choked cough for a moment, and when she next speaks it's in a squeaky whisper, "I could have used one to bring Petros back." She coughs again, her voice returning to a normal volume now, "But that would have meant abandoning one of you and- and-" a sniffle and stifled moan rob her of the ability to speak again.
"I'm just-" her words catch in her throat and twist into a whimper as she tries to hold back the hot tears.
"I don't-" but it's not enough. The tears begin flowing freely once more as her cheeks burn with shame, and her voice is quickly lost in a strangled sob.
She tries to apologize again, but the tears and emotions are too much. Vala bends forward, her arms wrapped around her own waist, as her shame and her grief swallow her.
Zed considers trying some words to comfort Vala. But he could hardly find the words to comfort normal people, Vala was far more complicated.
Zed makes himself busy getting some drinks and running health tests on Hazel and Kaz. He hopes they can comfort each other.
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Kazamir watches Vala's confessions and Hazels responses with an attempt as his usual impassiveness, but in the face of such raw hurt, his own sadness is evident.
He steps up beside both women, laying a hand on the near shoulders of both.
"Dear, dear Vala....if you knew all the murders I have committed in my mind and heart over the years, you would know that there is no need to ask me for forgiveness for what you wanted to do to some thing that richly deserves its punishment. Look to your deeds for comfort. We are alive. Vrood is dead, and I trust the Lady of Graves to deal out his reward. You want to punish him more? I doubt that all of his schemes are unraveled. Let us end his works, salt the earth of his hopes and plans."
"Take Hazel's words to heart. She is a wise woman. Don't bear this alone. Just as the Way tried to meddle in our dreams - and were thwarted when we spoke with each other in trust - don't let the rage and loss isolate you. Your comrades, your friends are here."
Kaz seems to run out of words, and just squeezes both of the ladies' shoulder before releasing them and stepping back.
"Also, if you are going to hit Hazel, let me step back. She can take a hit a lot better than I can..." he says, his wry half-smile reappearing for a second.
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Zed is so quiet and passive during the speeches that he almost seems a servant, trying to keep his head down during an uncomfortable conversation between nobles. But as the others draw to a close he stands, turning to look at the ground beneath Vala. "We are not good because we have no evil in our nature. We are good because we overcome the evil in our nature." He looks up to meet her gaze, giving an uncharacteristically soft smile, showing the fangs from his father. "I would know."
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Vala’s voice is soft and meek when she’s able to speak again, as she leans forward to cup Hazel’s chin in her hand. ”Oh, sweetheart, I’m not going to hit you. You are, each of you, far more and far better than this old woman deserves.” She then draws Hazel into a trembling hug, whispering in her ear through her own tears, ”I’m so sorry I hurt you, dear!”
While the two embrace, she reaches out with one hand to grasp Kazamir’s hand and gives it a grateful squeeze before then doing the same for Zed.
———————
The following morning, Vala reaches out to Constantin with one of her more powerful spells, though it was still quite limited.
”Kazamir and Hazel are recovering. Daramid missing, suspicious circumstances. Any leads against the Way? Which thread should we pursue? Will send again in one hour.”
Vermundr and Constantin remain in Feldgrau. Presently they are in the inn, the spirit of the keeper persisting in his grim work with the corpse of Vrood.
As the message comes through to the psychic, he is about to reply when the spirit utters something under it's breath that gives him pause.
It's hands have not finished rumaging around in the skull of the Dark Priest in the days since you left and in all that time he has said notihing to the pair. That is until now, when his pale eldrtich face seems to impossibly drain of even more colour and a look of fear washes over him.
Oh... oh.... my gods... he whispers. There is something here. Hidden so deeply not because he was resisting, but because he was made to forget it!
Wait, is that your friends? I can hear something coming through the Ether. Yes, yes it is. They have to see this too, they must!
..................
Suddenly your minds are flooded with a vision of Vermundr and Constantin sitting on a half broken bench surrounded by dusty, destroyed furniture. They are at the inn.
The vision swims and shifts and Vrood's ruined face, now greying and shrunken and beginning to rot comes into view. You realise you are somehow viewing through the eyes of the spirit and wonder what deeper and wondrous connections there must be between the living world and the dead.
I hope you can hear me. it says. I am using the Runes the Way carved into our village. I don't know if I'm doing this right, I'm just feeling my way. But if I am. You can see this, and you must!
There is something else in here. the spirit says. Something buried even deeper as if he cannot remember it himself.
.
..
...
The ghost grunts with effort and plunges his hands in once more into Vrood's head, this time hauling out a ball of darkness that somehow emanates the lack of light around it, making the inn seem altogether dimmer. Nonetheless he once again casts it against the wall.
At first there is only blackness, like an oily pool on the wall where the memory struck. But there is a voice, one you instantly recognise.....
I want you to strike me down Vrood. Fear not, my death will be merely transitory and temporary. But it will serve a purpose greater than you can understand.
A stifled anger permeates the man's next words. You wounded me deeply when you killed Professor Lorrimor, Vrood. The man was a dear friend to me and one I respected greatly! In acting so rashly you should know that you threw away your life and nothing would please me more than destroying you where you stand. However, unlike you I am neither rash nor impetuous. Instead, your death will serve our purpose.
The vision begins to clear and you find it is from an odd perspective. You realise that it is from Vrood's persepctive and looking down at the body of a beautiful young woman – Kendra Lorrimor. She is lying face down but her hair is unmistakeable and you not with a sickening realisation that her chest does not rise or fall. You also realise Vrood is trembling. Somehow you know he is utterly terrified.
In killing Ms Lorrimor I intend to send a message to those who I believe will prove troublesome. You should know that this will fuel their desire to hunt you down; believing, correctly it should be noted, that you killed both their friend and mentor in Petros. I have analysed every possible outcome of the inevitable battle you will have with these adventurers and in each case it leads to your death. the voice continues. That too, is acceptable. Because it will distract them from my true goal and is nothing more than you deserve, wretch. Thus you will continue to serve our glorious purpose even in your demise.
Now, strike me down, Vrood. I shall not resist. However, know that if you fail me, if you choose to cut and run instead of dying with dignity and honor... well. Let’s not entertain that possibility, shall we?
Vrood’s eyes look up from the body of Kendra to look at the man who addresses him, his hand raises and begins to glow with a red light as Vrood chants a spell, his voice breaking, hand trembling in fear of the man with whom he speaks. Somehow you get the feeling that even now, as he prepares to kill this man in some game - some parlour trick simply meant for misdirection - you know he is terrified for more than just his mortal life.
A chill runs up your spine and your head feels suddenly light as the red glow in Vrood’s hand flashes and the face of the man is lit in eldritch fire. The man…. Is
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You feel your stomachs drop at the vision.
How could that man, who was so polite and respectful, so helpful and accommodating be a part of this? Not least the architect of the whole affair. The man that Vaa knows and respects and befriended many years ago.
And yet...
And yet... you begin to remember things.
Now visions begin to appear in your own mind, connections and deductions being made as pieces fall into place like some crazy jigsaw puzzle.
But I had one in particular yesterday, a letter from a friend and colleague of my Father’s – Jon Derlith. He wished me well and offered his condolences on my Father’s passing. The two of them didn’t always see eye to eye and often I would hear them debating all manner of things into the small hours. It’s just a shame he couldn’t attend the funeral, but he’s tied up with some business in Lepistadt.
And now of course you know that business may well have been to orchestrate the theft of the Seasage Effigy, sending you on a path that would lead to the Trial of the Beast of Lepistadt and your first encounter with Auren Vrood.
Truly impressive. he compliments. Kendra had told me of your heroics in Ravengro but standing here in defence of that poor creature was both brave and noble. I can see why Professor Lorrimor entrusted you with so much and I just had to see you for myself. It was so interesting to observe you at work
My you really are impressive....
It was both an honour and a pleasure to observe.
Yours faithfully,An interested observer
I remain,Your most appreciative observer.
The tone of the letters... now that you think about them, now that the veil is lifted, were unmistakably him, painfully polite, seemingly genuinely appreciative of your efforts and yet with that almost unintentional air of superiority.
The professor’s death was… hard for me.
Of course it was! Knowing that Vrood had murdered him. If the vision and everything that Kendra told you were to be believed, Jon had a genuine affection for the professor. In many ways, he was as much Jon’s mentor as your own and you begin to wonder where your paths diverged to set him on the road to the Whispering Way when you were both so influenced by the same kind, instructive hand of Petros Lorrimor.
Despite his injury, the nobleman's grip is steady and his hair and clothing are still immaculate.
It's ok, I’m tougher than I look.
Everything is before you. Seek and you shall find.
We are a secret group, largely made up of Ustalav's Elite who, among other things, seek to protect this nation from threats both within and without. Our numbers include Justices, Deans, noblemen - even high ranking clergy - but all of us are committed to our philosophies and to the Order itself. Jon was also a member.
Jon knows the secrets of the Palatine Eye, their inner machinations and rituals, their codes and maxims.
He was telling you! Even in carrying out this most dangerous and audacious plan he was telling you that everything was before you, if you had but looked you could have ended it all right there!
He pulls a card at random from the fan. He holds it before him and sees that it depicts an elderly lady, a crown balanced precariously on her head.Ze Queen Mother. Ivanja says. She hovers at ze brink of death, all thoughts of duty and honour but distant memories. Zere is von who vill betray you, who is not all zat zey seem.
You remember the reading well. Could she have been talking about Jon even then?
Then the final, horrific image forms.It depicts a great battle with a decaying creature that blazes with arcane power, high atop a spire in dark, swirling clouds. The image of the creature flickers and falters as if it were resisting the display. And yet, somehow, though you cannot perceive why, the corpse-creature carries with it a desperate familiarity....
And finally... most starkly of all, you remember the vision granted to you by Desna. There was something about that terrible, undead creature. Everything told you to pierce that visage, to see without seeing at what truly lay there. But you just couldn’t see it... that the undead creature, it’s body almost torn apart by necromantic energy, was none other than Jon Derlith!
Vala stiffens as the unbidden vision begins, and as Vrood’s perspective becomes clear, her hands clenched into wrinkled fists. But when the revelation of Vrood’s master is realized, she chokes on a strangled cry. Vrood had hurt the people closest to her, but Derlith had manipulated them only to then commit the ultimate betrayal. Vala felt dizzy, like the world was spinning around her too fast to see while she stood still.
But then something shifted in her gut, something solidified. She had hated Vrood, the emotion more raw and powerful than anything she’d ever experienced before. She had seen what it was doing to her, how it was twisting her, but only as if she were a distant observer. She had hoped listening to those around her would help her right her course. But all that anger, all that hurt and guilt she’d felt in the wake of Vrood’s touch upon her life turned to focus then on Jonathan.
She knew she shouldn’t have trusted him. The guilt flares white and hot in her chest as the vision fades. She hisses darkly as the others all snap out of the shared vision, ”That traitorous snake!”
Kazamir is utterly nonplussed by this latest, awful betrayal, sitting down hard, his face white and blank.
How could we have not seen it? How could [u]I[/u] have not seen it! Oh, Lady of Secrets, how you chastise me for my pride...
Kaz touches his chest, where his seldom-seen holy symbol rests under his shirt. Then his face is contorted by an awful grimace of anger, fear, frustration...
"I handed the traitor my family on a platter! I asked him to look after them. Gods above and below..."
Zed sits back, face still and contemplative at this new information. Jon Derlith...unexpected. He folds his hands, resting his chin between them. But why? So much manipulation, such a carefully orchestrated plan. Was it all just a distraction? For what? He frowns. Obviously he has become some sort of powerful undead. If he was killed intentionally...by Pharasma, could we be dealing with a lich? Zed continues to sit silently in contemplation.
At Hazel's outburst Zed snaps out of his stupor. "Preserve your hand, it will be needed to strike Derlith down." He says calmly. "Kazamir, we will need to move your family as soon as possible. Perhaps we will leave evidence of my family in return so he has something to pursue." Wouldn't that be amusing? "I have come to gain power over Zed Ulmin!..are those fangs?" Zed gives a hint of a wry smile, then stands. "Our work has only just begun."
"Hmm. So there was a reason for my hunch of disliking him," murmurs Constantin.
"No matter. He's expected our response and played out this scenario with foreknowledge. We can't afford to lose any more time. We have to recover Kendra and find a way to stop him, and now that he's lost the shroud of his anonymity, he's lost a powerful tool."
The psychic seems cool, almost compartmentalized. A psychologist, if such a thing existed yet on Golarion, might say that he was disassociating.
"Outside of Caliphas. A long way away, right now." Kaz replies flatly, his eyes also far away.
”Damn”, Vermundr growls as his only reply to the vision.
Zelda’s buzzing increases intensely, mirroring her master’s unspoken rage.
”How deep does the Way’s corruption spread? I won’t rest until we cut it all out. For Lady Lorrimor.”
Constantin pauses as he receives Vala's magical missive.
"A moment. Vala has sent information."
He listens to her magically-delivered mental voice, then says aloud and sends back through the sending, "Vrood planned meeting in Thrushmoor to trade for cult object, trying to construct powerful item."
He says to Vermundr, "I think we know where we are headed next."
Vala turns to three with her after a moment and frowns. ”Well, we have a terrible decision to make now. Constantin has gleaned Vrood’s, and by extension Jonathan’s I suppose, plans from the documents we left with them in Feldgrau. The Way intends to make some kind of trade in Thrushmoor for an item of interest to them.” She looks slowly across each face, her own countenance dark, and asks the horrible question. ”So, do we make for Caliphas to try and save Kazamir’s family or regroup in Feldgrau and press on to Thrushmoor in our pursuit of the Whispering Way?”
"We would need to pass Feldgrau on the way , in any case, and Thrushmoor is close to Caliphas."
"Perhaps there is a mage in Lepistadt cable of scribing scrolls of Teleport..." he muses, rising to his feet and beginning to pace.
Vala nods at the plan and casts a second spell to inform Constantin of their course. "New danger: Derlith may be targeting Kazamir's family in Caliphas too. Will acquire several scrolls for distant travel and join you in Feldgrau soon. Be-" "-safe." The former history teacher frowns as the spell cuts her off, frustrated at her own clumsiness.
She looks at the three with her and sighs. "They know to wait at least. Let's get what scrolls we may and hope our fortunes take a favorable turn." As the group readies to depart Daramid's home, Vala rubs one wrinkled hand on Kazamir's shoulder in a grandmotherly way before offering softly, "We'll get to them in time, dear. Jonathan doesn't know we've found him out. We're sure to get there first."
Constantin replies to Vala, "Will await your arrival. Trying to find more information about cultic artifact."
He alerts Vermundr to the recent developments.
"Seems they're going to come to us via magic. Khaz's family is in danger now. We need to find out if there's anything else we can learn about this cult and how the Whispering Way connected to it. This is more than just Vrood now," he says.
Once they are finally ready, the group in Lepistadt acquire the scrolls they need - important items in the trials to come - and in a vertigo-inducing flash, appear back at the inn in Feldgrau, reuniting the party. Including the formerly deceased members.
"That is all you will learn from him." the spirit says, finally releasing it's spiritual hands from his head. "I think I will stay a while. Enjoy the quiet. It's been so noisy here recently..."
***
Vermundr regards his resurrected companions with a mix of quiet awe and curiosity.
"It is a miracle you were returned to us. How is such a thing possible? I have always believed the sort of magic Vrood wielded could not be undone", he finally asks Hazel and Kazamir. "Do you remember much of the other side? I often wonder how I will be received in Calistra's halls when my time comes."
"A miracle it is, one stronger than normal due to Vrood's necromancy. The 'Order' had such artifacts on hand...you can thank Vala for invoking the magic." He says. Her potential is climbing so quickly at her age. Perhaps there is more than one potent spellcaster to be wary of. He can't help but remember her idea to resurrect and kill Vrood multiple times. A dark wish indeed.
But there are more pressing matters. "We should move with all haste. There is much to be done."
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It is a relief to travel on well kept roads for a change running out of Caliphas and through the low lands toward the shores of Lake Encarthan. The Lake itself is vast, stretching as far as the eye can see and serving as a coastline for cities as far removed as Thronestep to Tamran. The water glitters majestically in the fading light and you can see innumerable little fishing boats making their way back in to port after a busy day.
You spur your horses on and make your way down into the town of Thrushmoor whilst the sun sits lazily on the horizon.
At the centre of Lake Encarthan sits The Isle of Terror where it is said the Living God Aroden fought the Whispering Tyrant Tar-Baphon, resulting in the former's disappearance from the world and the latter's death.
Zed feels almost out of place on the open roads. Walking on well-traveled paths that are used for casual transportation and trade. But he can't help but to enjoy the water and the quiet fishers who are content to wait with their lot.
Zed keeps a sharp eye on their surroundings. He is intent on ensuring a safe journey.
"These waters hold a history most relevant to our endeavors," Kaz says quietly as they ride along, gazing out in the general direction of the Isle of Terror. "Out there, the first life of the Tyrant was ended. If only Aroden had known what he would become after death..."
Uncomfortable with the astral travel, Vermundr rides in sullen silence until Kazamir begins his lesson on the region's history.
"And you believe this Whispering Way is somehow connected to the Tyrant? With that kind of history, shouldn't this area be filled with descendants of those that fought him?"
"Tar-Baphon was the most famous adherent of the Whispering Way, Vermundr - probably how he became known as the Whispering Tyrant - but scholars think that the organization itself is older still than he. I think most of Varisia must be descendants of those who fought him - though, it has been a thousand years since the Shining Crusade that locked him Gallowspire. Lots of time for people to come and go."
"The hints we have to the Way's purpose...I have no real basis, but I fear that they want to make some sort of key for Gallowspire, to release the lich on the world once more. We should probably study that verse in greater detail, come to think..."