Tenebroum PLUS Ch. 158-159 (Patreon)

Ch. 158 - The Undiscovered Land

When she traveled downstream for the last time, it was a languid affair, but Oroza no longer had the strength to swim. At this point, she barely had the strength to hold herself together as the emaciated shell of the river dragon she was. Even time spent among the ice at the peak of the mountains was enough to rejuvenate her; she did not truly understand why. 

Was it not as clear as it had always been? Were the heights not untouched and perfect in that timeless way that she’d always been until so recently?

She didn’t know, but then, she didn’t know that it mattered, either. She had lived a long enough life that it was measured in centuries, and for most of that time she had been content to drift along as if it would never end. Now all that mattered now was that the Lich did not get its hands on her soul and continue her torment in perpetuity.

It would be bad enough that it would shape and eventually seize whatever sprang up from the polluted banks of the Oroza next, but she could do nothing about that now. She’d already fought too long and too hard and lost everything in the process. 

While she drifted through the southern reaches of her realm toward the silty delta, she bitterly reflected on how little her efforts had accomplished. She had prevented the darkness from marching east immediately, but that had only given those people a two-year reprieve. Beyond that, what had she done? Saved some children? Torn apart as many of the Lich’s constructs as she could?

Oroza smiled at that as she glided along. It wasn’t much, but it would have to be enough. Before that, she’d granted the wishes of countless mothers for healthy babies and even more farmers for bountiful yields, but somehow, all those minor miracles paled in comparison to the dark years that had done such damage to her. 

All she could hope for was that in time, after the Gods finally stood together and defeated this enemy, or the darkness had consumed all the life in the area and burned itself out, that nature would finally begin to heal. One day there would be an Oroza again. She believed that. She just knew that it wouldn’t be her. 

The behavior of the other Gods was the point that galled her the most. Their domains were so disparate, and their concerns were so focused that it was hard to get them to work together on anything, especially since the nature goddesses and the children of the forest had begun to vanish. 

It was the nature of man to be selfish, but the Gods were supposed to rise above such petty challenges and work together to defeat their enemies. Sadly, they could not even accomplish that much. 

The All-Father was almost finished building a new chariot, but Lunaris would not loan him any of her stars to wrangle the horses for it. She said the firmament was too weak to support any more losses. 

Even if she had, though, who would they get to drive such a thing? For a time, she had hoped that the Templar with the glowing eyes might be the one to do so, but according to what she’d heard, he was dead, and the place where she’d left those light-eyed children so long ago was gone too. 

Siddrim had once been a man, it was said, before he was invested with the light. Perhaps another like that would be born somewhere across the seas. 

None of that mattered to her any longer as she traveled out to sea herself. She used to hate the itch of the saltwater in the Relict Sea, but compared to her own waters now, they felt clean and pure, and she quick sank beneath the waves, letting the currents take her ever deeper. That was all she wanted, to find a place somewhere where her tormentor could never find her, and there was no place vaster than the ocean depths. 

That was why she was surprised when Istinis found her there, curled up beneath a rock in thousands of feet of water, a hundred miles from anywhere in a plain of endless mud and stone. Her pale aqua skin and the flickering lightning in her eyes made a mistaken identity impossible. She was Istiniss.

Normally, such an unexpected visit might have frightened Oroza. After all, it wasn’t so long ago that the Lich compelled her to invade the more powerful Goddess’s domain and ravage her behemoths with the Lich’s crazed sea dragon. Now, death would be a blessing, and if the Ocean Goddess wanted to strike her down, well, so much the better. 

Instead, the two of them regarded each other for a long time before Istiniss finally spoke. “I would make you one of my own if I could,” the Goddess said at last. “I would give your domain of the east wind and let you pour out your poison on the creature that did this to you, but that is beyond me.”

“I appreciate that,” Oroza said, too tired to offer up any proper formality. 

“Sadly, you cannot die here,” the storm goddess said as she crouched down next to Oroza’s coiled form. 

“I can’t?” Oroza asked. “Do you think is too close to—”

“No, I promise you that the monster that ravages your land would never find your spirit,” Istiniss said, stroking the silvery scales of Oroza’s flank. “I would bind you to a pearl and hide you away at the very bottom of the sea. In a place, it would never think to look for you.”

“I appreciate that,” Oroza answered with a smile wide enough to show how many teeth she’d lost already. 

“I know, but the prophecy, and therefore Lunaris herself, forbids that you should die in this place alone,” the sea goddess said at last. 

“Does she have another one?” Oroza asked. “I heard her recite the thing once, and I’m nowhere in it, I can promise you that. Rivers do not change the course of history.”

The only answer that Istiniss gave was to smile before she started to recite one of the long rhyming passages that made up the cryptic poem that the Moon Goddess seemed to believe held some sort of key to defeating the evils that they faced. 

“The savior of light shall brave endless night

Though if she could, she’d only weep.

Until she returns to the light, she’ll continue to fight,

Then she can finally sleep.”

“I am no savior of light,” Oroza laughed softly. “I couldn’t even save myself.”

“No,” Istiniss agreed. “I didn’t think so either, but our Moon Goddess is quite sure. She says that you told her about how you saved an entire boat full of light not so long ago, though, and perhaps that is enough.”

“Maybe,” Oroza sighed, “But wouldn’t it make more sense for one of the children on that boat to be the savior of the light?”

“I’m not sure,” Istiniss said with a shrug. “I read the whole thing but confess it made no sense to me. Regardless, Lunaris told me that I must not allow you to die, and I aim to do that at least.”

“How? Will you purge my river of the poisons?” Oroza asked. “Will  you drain it of the salt that is killing the plants that dwell there?”

“I would if I could,” the Goddess of Sea and Storms nodded. “I would empty every thunderhead in the world on that evil patch of land if I thought that it could cleanse its taint, but that would only poison the sea faster.”

“Then all you can do is put me out of my misery,” Oroza smiled sadly, certain that a blast of lightning would be enough to stop the slow wheezing in her chest each time she breathed in and out through her gills. 

“Sorry,” Istiniss said. “I already told you you aren’t dying in my ocean. Lunaris is already cross enough with me. I’m going to help you get somewhere where you can recover your strength, at least for a while. It's very far away, but once that’s done, well, as long as you fulfill your destiny, I suppose you can do whatever you want.” 

Oroza opened her large mouth to speak. She was going to explain that she lacked the strength to swim for another mile, let alone leagues and leagues, but the words were lost in the sudden surge of currents that surrounded her. They pulled her out of her own grave and flung her off at great speed through the darkness to someplace only Istiniss knew. 

There was a time when Oroza would have fought her way free on principle. She lacked the strength to do that now, though. Instead, she was dragged through the depths back toward the surface. That was not her destination, though. Instead, she was propelled for a night and a day like that toward warmer waters and sunnier climes.

Three times, she saw an island speeding toward her from the horizon, and each time, she thought that was her destination. She passed all of them by, though.

Oroza glided across the water until she no longer recognized the color of the water or the sky. Even her cleanest mountain lakes were not so teal, and the strange pink rocks she glimpsed beneath her were contrasted by brightly colored fish that were every color of the rainbow. She would have thought for certain that she’d left the world entirely for some new place were it not for the constellations in the sky. 

Then, the next morning, shortly after sunrise she spied a fourth island, and the currents carried her all the way to the breakwaters of it before they finally released her. It was a strange place, with oddly shaped trees that had broad leaves only at the very top of tall crooked trunks. 

All of that was beautiful, but as she got close to the shore and let her dragon form fade away to reveal only an old woman in a silver dress, it was the man standing on shore that caught her attention. He was alone there, in ankle-deep water, wearing fine black clothing that did not fit at all with everything else. She had no idea what to make of that, but she didn’t feel at all threatened by the dark-skinned woman as she slowly waded ashore.

“I was sent here,” Oroza said, rising from the surf and walking toward the shore on shaky legs. 

“You were,” she agreed, “but you don’t have to come here. Not if you don’t want to.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to?” Oroza asked, suddenly unsure.

“Where you stand now, you have the traces of not just life and death, but undeath upon you as well.” The dark woman said. “If you leave the surf and come fully onto the shore, you will leave behind two of those worlds forever.”

Oroza paused. Trying to decipher the cryptic words as she stood there, struggling against the tide as it lapped against the shore. She was exhausted, and truly, there was nowhere else for her to go. Still, she asked the obvious question, “Who are you?”

The dark woman smiled with frighteningly white teeth and said a word. It might have been a name, even, but it was lost in the crashing of the tide that churned around them. 

“That won’t mean too much to you, though,” she continued, extending his hand, “Not until you make your decision.”

Oroza only had to think for a moment. Then, with determination, she gripped the stranger’s hand and strode ashore.

Ch. 159 - Uneasy Silence

At first, the denizens of the port sought simply to ignore the dark fleet that had anchored in such a way as to choke off most of the harbor’s approach. A few brave merchant ships rowed by during the day, but by night, they lost their nerve and hid in the port, hoping for one more night of safety. 

The Voice of Reason would have let them go, of course. Killing merchants and sinking their fine ships in sight of the city would have been exactly the wrong thing to do, to prepare for all that was coming next. 

Twice, a small formation of ships rigged for war formed up in the harbor, preparing to sail on the Voice’s fleet. Whether that was because they planned to fight or because their pride demanded that they show they were, she couldn’t say. The spirits of the sailors they’d fished from the wreckage of their last battle largely agreed that the ships were waiting for the return of the fleet she’d already burned and that they would strike once they sighted those white sales on the horizon. 

It would have been a classic pincer maneuver. It would probably have been quite effective, even. Sadly, they were out of allies and the fearful men would have to treat with her directly, or continue to cower behind the beautiful walls of their fragile city until she finally lost patience with them. 

Given enough nights to study the place, she didn’t need her master’s Dark Paragon to tell her that it would have been much easier to conquer this place than Constantinal or Rahkin. She might have enough death knights and other constructs to march right up through the harbor and sack the palace in a night or two. 

That would have defeated the point, though, she thought crossly to herself while she admired the distant lights that flickered off the glittering waves. The Lich had endless numbers of servants that could conquer, but only one that could do it without swords, and she needed to show her worth in that regard.

It took almost two weeks for the powers of Tanda to cease their bickering and send forth an envoy. His dhow was an ornate pleasure craft, which made it quite showy, but it was a flat-decked vessel that left nowhere to hide unwelcome surprises. 

She approved. It was a sensible choice intended not to provoke her further while still offering a glimpse of the wealth and status of this place. 

Thanks to the wraiths that circled the waters like so many gulls, she knew what she would see long before the fragile boat reached her flagship. Onboard the Mysterious Ways was a single, plump eunuch who only just barely managed not to tremble as he stood there between his eight rowers, reeking of fear. 

The voice stood there as the boat pulled slowly alongside of hers, and then as he began to shout his entries as to parlay, she walked toward the bow of her ship, tracing the rails lightly as she studied the little man and his strange accent. 

He tried three different languages before the figurehead on the bow of her vessel began to unfurl and extend. The Voice wasn’t concerned. She knew every language her Master did, and she was sure that any that she did not already know would come to her quickly.  

The figurehead had been a beautiful maiden made of ivory holding a harp, but as soon as the Voice approached her, she extended into her true form, becoming a bony Llamaia that slithered almost completely free of her bonds, becoming a delicate stairway that curved around toward the aft of the dhow. 

Though she could be unleashed completely and made into a killing machine, that was not the main purpose of the figurehead. It was to provide an easy way for the Voice to board and disembark the vessel. After all, she was far too heavy to float, and if she were to fall into the water, there would be nothing to catch her until she reached the abyssal sands hundreds of feet below. 

Though she could presumably walk until she reached the shore again, she didn’t like to think of what such a fate would do to her fine dress or carefully tanned skin. The odds of staying unmolested by the things that dwelled down there long enough to reach land weren’t good, and she had not been built to fight them. Evidently, the Lich had similar fears, for it had given her this guardian to prevent exactly that fate, and graceful Llamia did an excellent job. 

Even though both ships bobbed up and down in the surf out of sync with each other, the Voice never felt it. Instead, each bony stair beneath her moved ever so slightly to cancel out all the motion, making her the only part of the entire tableau that was even capable of stillness as she walked down the path with her stiff, prideful gate. 

The screams started before she reached the dhow, but she knew that they weren’t because of her. None of the rowers who were trying their very best to fling themselves into the sea were attempting to escape the beautiful woman in black who was strolling down her own private staircase made of serpentine vertebra; instead, they were doing all they they could to escape her loyal llama. 

They couldn’t, though. They were chained to their rowing benches, and in the end, all they could do was find something to defend themselves. 

When the voice stepped onto the deck, she curtsied slightly in her long black dress. She only walked three steps forward before the first fearful slave attempted to strike out at her. Fortunately, his master was faster with his whip, and before the terrified rower could strike a second time, the chubby little eunuch was already waddling toward her. 

“Mistress, please!” he said, struggling to maintain his composure as he moved himself between her and the rest of his crew. “One thousand pardons for this. I will have him flayed to within an inch of his life once we return to port. I am Harun Rok, a lowly functionary who serves the Sultan, and I have come here to ascertain who the great power behind such a fleet might be and what it is that they would want from the ivory port of Tanda.”

“This would be an acceptable apology,” she nodded, letting a moment of silence linger before she continued just to make the man sweat. “I am the Voice of Reason, and I come from the darkened lands to the south at the behest of my Master.”

“Your Master?” he asked hopefully, seeking to wheedle out more information, but the Voice ignored him. 

“We thank you for your bravery, Harun Rok,” the Voice said with a cold smile, “But this is a conversation for your lord. You are here to work out the details for such things and nothing more.”

The man was so concerned with the snake woman that lingered just beneath her that he barely noticed the slight. Instead, he nodded blankly and agreed, “Yes, the arrangements, of course. When will you…”

“Midnight,” she said in a tone that was as much answer as it was command. “I shall journey to the palace tomorrow at midnight so that we may have an amicable discussion about all of this. Please go and deliver this message to your lord so that he may expect my arrival.”

The man had obviously expected a longer audience or even negotiations, but as soon as the exchange was complete, the Voice was turning away and returning to her ship. There was nothing to be gained by further discussions with someone who had no power, not when the cost was mystery and intrigue. She would let poor master Rok return alone with nothing but a name and a time, and that would be enough to practically watch the whole of Tanda’s dense harbor, and white walls burst into flames of intrigue from here. 

She watched the tiny dhow slink back the way it had come with its tail between its legs, and In the day that followed, she did little except choose a few appropriate gifts as tokens of her Master’s generosity. After some consideration, she chose a fist-sized pearl carved in the shape of an eye and a wind-up raven made of brass and bone that would flap its wings quite convincingly when the key was turned. 

The latter had no magic, of course, which was just as well because the former was overflowing in enchantments. With the right level of focus from the Lich, it would be able to spy on half the city even if they tucked this thing away in the deepest treasury, which is what any sensible ruler would do. Still, it was a work of singular beauty, and the iridescent iris was arresting in its detail, so she was fairly certain that a ruler with this level of wealth and vanity would put it on display regardless of what his advisors had to say. 

She wouldn’t have to wait long to find out, though. Less than 24 hours later, her ship, along with two more flanking it, moved slowly toward the vacant pier at the heart of Tanda’s harbor where her small company of only a few dozen disembarked. The voice no longer had her carriage, but even if she did, she wouldn’t have had any way of moving it from sea to land. Neither did she have any way of matching the ostentatious pomp of this foreign place, so she didn’t try. 

Instead, she met the overwhelming wealth of their mosaics and silken banners with dread austerity as she mounted her palanquin and was carried into the city by four towering death knights. They were escorted by another three dozen that marched in perfect unison; it was an impressive showing of steel and precision, but that was not the reason that she’d chosen them for this occasion. 

It wasn’t even because they were as merciless as they were deadly; It was because out of all the soldiers and monstrosities concealed below decks in the black fleet, these were the only ones that appeared to be human in a convincing way, and while she was in no way ashamed of her undeath or that of her minions, she had a better understanding of fear and panic after the events of Rahkin, and she would not let the reaction of the streets and those who dwelled among the gutters force the Sultan’s hand.

So, despite the growing crowds, she and her fearsome entourage marched in perfect silence from the harbor to the palace. There had been a welcoming party to greet them, headed by the same eunuch and a few other dignitaries, but her dismissive gaze had made her stance clear without a wasted word: I am not here for you.

That dismissive silence clung to the group as it made its way to the palace, and though the size and the volume of the onlookers increased as they went, even their exclamations were not enough to breach the metallic drum beat of dead footsteps that silenced everything as they went.