"The Gathering" - Chapter 16

Findings

Vincent looked at Nikolai, his dark blue eyes searching the hulking blonde for clues to what he was thinking. He knew that the telepath is especially adept at masking his thoughts but Vincent had known him long enough to decipher the minute little giveaways Nikolai will inadvertently give off. In the deepening night, their only illumination coming from Wanda’s small lantern and the two lightrods they had ignited upon entering the fray earlier, Nikolai’s face was cast in shadows with his back to Vincent. The rigid set of his shoulders however, attested to his unease at being caught unwary by the reaver.

Right now their unofficial leader was conferring with Eden, asking the witch questions regarding their dead assailant. In addition to being a full-fledged battle-caster, Eden also has an impressive knowledge of magical creatures and phenomena.

“Give me your knife,” Eden was saying, dropping into a crouch beside the charred corpse. Her outstretched hand found handle of the broad dagger Nikolai slapped into her palms. She made two quick incisions at each corner of the reaver’s mouth and peeled the flaps open.

“Ugh, gross,” Wanda muttered, turning her eyes skyward. Her protective umbrella of force were still active, keeping them dry—or at least, preventing them from being drenched any further by the rain from their earlier fight.

Vincent looked long and hard at the brunette, wondering at how long could Wanda maintain this protective screen? Both siblings have displayed remarkable aptitude with their abilities, and even without any formal training had so far displayed skills rivaling those of an accomplished graduate from the Academy. He catalogued the unanswered question at the back of his mind, intending to revisit it at a later date.

Jasper had joined Eden and Nikolai, taking a crouching spot opposite Eden. Wanda had joined them after a small pause, grimacing at the smell of charred flesh. The brunette held up her lantern, shedding its light to aid the witch in her examination.

“Are those … fangs?” she asked the blonde spellweaver.

“Lengthened canines,” Eden confirmed, letting the flap of skin flop back into place. “Reaver’s have a vampiric diet,” she continued as she moved towards the abdomen, her gloved fingers pressing gently, tracing the outlines of the reaver’s rib cage.

“Vampiric,” Jasper mused, echoing the word. “Exactly what are they?”

Eden paused in the midst of her study of the charred expanse of muscled stomach. “Mutated humanoids,” she explained. “Mutated by exposure to transmutative magics designed to make them stronger, faster and impervious to most harm.”

“Most harm being normal weapons,” Nikolai elaborated the last part. His lips were twisted sardonically.

“Your sword seemed to hurt him,” Wanda pointed out.

“Magic sword,” Jasper stated by way of guessing. “Right?”

Nikolai nodded, his eyes following Eden’s movements as the witch made a deep incision on the abdomen. Wanda gagged slightly, her lantern wobbling with her shudder. Vincent didn’t blame her. The stench that wafted up from the abdominal cavity smelled like dozens of dead cats left in the sun for several days.

“Amazing,” Eden breathed. Vincent noted that even under her calm, controlled coolness, the blonde’s eyes watered slightly at the foul stench. “Look,” she pointed out, using the dagger’s point to poke at the intestines. Instead of bodily waste or trapped gasses that they expected, the intestines deflated when punctured by the dagger’s sharp point. The witch made several swift cut and pulled out a long strip of the intestines and studied its inner lining.

“Oh wonderful,” Wanda murmured sardonically. “She’s a ghoul.” Her eyes however, were transfixed to what Eden was doing.

“Could you bring the lantern closer?” the witch asked.

Wanda passed the lantern over to Nikolai, who brought it down to where the witch was kneeling on the ground. She turned to look at Wanda, an expectant look filled with questions on her face.

“You studied anatomy, didn’t you?” she asked. “If I remembered Jasper correctly.”

“Biology,” Wanda corrected. “Why?”

“Take a look at this, and tell me what do you see?”

“I don’t think it’s going to be much help, but okay …”

Wanda elbowed Nikolai out of the way, grabbing the lantern out of his hands. She joined Eden kneeling on the ground and brought the lantern close to the abdominal cavity. The two women’s head bent close to study the strip of intestines, with a small exclamation of disbelief coming from Wanda.

She turned towards the three men, her brows furrowed in shock. “This thing has been dead for at least a week,” she stated disbelievingly. She turned to Eden. “It’s dead, and not by natural terms. How is that possible? We just fought it not ten minutes ago!”

“It’s not dead,” Nikolai cut in before the witch could.

“Then how do you explained the organ’s necrotic state?” Wanda countered, falling on the scientific term to shore up her shaken state.

“You misunderstood,” Nikolai answered calmly.

“Don‘t patronise me, Niki!” Wanda interrupted hotly, getting to the knees.

“Believe me, I‘m not,” he shot back. “If there‘s anything I could mistake you for, a fool would be the last thing on my mind.”

Wanda stopped dead, the abruptly delivered backhanded compliment having taken her off guard. Jasper raised his eyebrow, a small smile on his lips. Vincent met his eyes and winked. Eden looked agog, turning back and forth slowly between Nikolai and Wanda, her ice-blue eyes undecipherable.

“It’s not dead,” he said, slowly drawing out the words as he turned his gaze first at Wanda, then Jasper.

He then continued, his voice leaden and ominous. “It’s undead.”

“Like zombies?” Wanda asked, her face disbelieving.

“Not quite,” Eden answered her. She got to her feet, brushing the knees of her riding skirt. “It’s slightly more complicated than that, if I remember the theory correctly.”

Nikolai nodded in agreement. “It’s not undead in the sense they are re-animated corpses like zombies.” he explained. “These reavers were warped by the magics that gave them their heightened endurance, strength and regenerative capabilities. It rendered their physical body unable to replenish itself.”

“So, it doesn’t produce any fatigue toxins but the wear and tear--so to speak--of their musculature still needs to be addressed. New cells--blood, skin and so forth--needs to be renewed,” Wanda paused, looking at Jasper, Vincent, Eden and Nikolai, before continuing, “So my question now is how do they go about it?”

“They drain your life force,” Nikolai shrugged. “The more they drain, the longer they will last.”

“Like vampires,” Jasper tossed in as an aside.

“Like so,” Nikolai confirmed. “Without the fangs and blood and gore.”

Wanda made a moue of disgust before turning to Nikolai. “I follow that Eden would know about magical theory and weirdo creatures, but how is it that you know more about reavers than her?”

Nikolai didn’t answer her. He just stepped over to where the lightrod he had activated was lying on the ground, its bright yellow glow still holding strong. He seemed lost in thought as he sheathed his broad dagger slowly, his movements careful and studied. Jasper stared at him, his face managing to mask the shock at sensing waves of anguish, pain and rage emanating from the gruff, no-nonsense man.

Nikolai turned towards Wanda, drawing Jasper’s eyes when he glared at the empath--sensing that Jasper had managed to pierce through his carefully hidden thoughts. When he replied to Wanda’s question, his voice was broken and hollow.

“My parents were killed by reavers.”

* * *

Yuri Marshankall paused. His hand moved towards the silver pendant hanging hidden underneath his cotton tunic, reassuring him with its presence. He had felt a small feathery touch at the back of his neck, like a gnat had alighted momentarily there on the surface of his skin. He had first brushed his fingers at the spot although he knew this feathery sensation wasn’t due to any insect.

A telepath was scanning the surroundings.

To any lay persons, most would not have even felt the subtle probe but Yuri had been trained by the famed mentalist Andra Maruschka, a Prime of the highest order. He knew his mental barriers that he had been trained to erect would protect him from any cursory scans but he trembled slightly at the thought of challenging a telepath. He called up a protective spell to mind, readying it for a spontaneous casting to protect his mind should the unknown telepath prove hostile. Feeling the familiar surge of magic coursing through his veins, he felt ready and reached for his outer robe.

Thus fully attired, he slipped his small dagger into his ankle boots and reach inside his vest’s left pocket to grip the object he had secreted therein. It was a small gift Hamish had given on the morning before he departed: a brass knuckle with silvered edgings.

He smiled slightly at the memory, and squared his shoulders. His room at the inn was a modest one; comprising of a small cot, a tiny table and a rickety chair. Although small, it was nonetheless clean, which suited him perfectly. He might not care much for fripperies but tidiness certainly goes a long way in assuring comfort to his way of thinking.

Leaving his room, he reached the landing and paused momentarily to listen. The inn he was staying at was family-owned, with the proprietor running the tavern while his family--both immediate and extended--took care of the details related to food and lodging as well as the daily tasks than those running services offering lodgings inevitable face. The tavern was situated in a separate building adjacent to the inn, while dining rooms were placed at the ground floor. Lodgings were situated on the first storey of the inn, itself converted from a plantation ranch--the tavern being the old barn, repurposed by the owner. Further back, a separately built covered corral and a new barn serves as a place to house mounts and carriages belonging to patrons.

There was nothing alarming or new about the soft murmur of dining lodgers. Satisfied that nothing was amiss, Yuri pulled at his tunic, squaring his appearance before taking the small step down the stairs, softly climbing down until he reached the ground floor. He nodded a greeting to the matronly wife of the proprietor who passed by him on her way to the kitchens, her arms laden with a tray bearing a stack of dishes and cutleries--remnants of a customers’ repast.

“Sit by the window, dear,” she said, a motherly smile dimpling her cheeks. “It’s full moon tonight.”

He murmured his thanks and made his way to the aforementioned table. On his way, he passed by the doorway separating the dining hall from the reception counter. Two of the proprietor’s children--appearing to be in their late teens--were manning the station. As he was about to pass the opening, the front door open and a tall, muscular man entered, followed by an ethereal, willowy blond woman.

“Do you have three rooms to spare?” the man asked. Although brusque in form, his deep bass voice was cultured, belying a highly educated background.

“Yes, sir,” replied the girl--Lettice, if he recalled her name correctly. “All with double cots. Will that suit you?”

“Those will do just fine,” was all Yuri managed to capture before the conversation was lost under a flurry of instructions to carry luggage and discussions of payment.

Yuri sat himself down at his table, appreciating the view of the full moon as it rose over the horizon. A platter of containing a portion of meat loaf, vegetable soup and dark sourdough bread, along with a pot of Zamarian tea was deposited in front of him by a server. He reached into his purse and dispensed the requested payment of three ducats--the silver coins used widely as currency--adding a shilling (itself a tenth of the value of a ducat) as a tip. His generosity was met with a gracious smile.

Finding that his position afforded him to observe the reception area innocently, he allowed his glance to be dragged back to the inn’s latest customers.

The muscular man was now waiting, leaning against the counter that made up a portion of the reception desk. Under the overhead lantern’s light, Yuri could see that his blonde hair had been cut very short, almost military-like. Streaks of sun-bleached strands contrasted with the darker honeyed shades of his hair The blond female--her hair like spun flax--had turned towards him, and he admitted that she is one of the most--if not the most--beautiful woman he had ever seen.

Both blonds were almost identical in their bearings; cool and aloof. Almost secretive, if he didn’t know better.

A movement outside the window drew his attention. He could see three figures walking towards the front door of the inn. Silhouetted by the full moon framing them against the horizon, he couldn’t make out their features. All he could tell from their forms were that they were two males--one short and compact, the other rangy--and one female. As the three neared the porch that formed the entrance and the light from the windows and lanterns placed outside fell upon them he felt his breath catch.

He had found them! the thought flashed in his mind, jubilantly.

The rangy male, and the female were the same two people from his dream.

* * *

“Silver Walker at the bay window,” Eden murmured softly to Nikolai, her lips barely moving.

I know, Nikolai said mentally, his telepathic link with Eden activated the moment he saw the Journeyman priest sitting at the table.

He doesn’t seem like much, the witch thought somewhat uncharitably. Looks a little young to be a Journeyman.

It’s a new appointment, Nikolai replied.

You read his mind … ?

Not quite. His mind is very ordered and disciplined, Its natural structure alone prevents a surface scan from getting any readings.

Eden’s silence following his explanation was telling.

Nikolai glanced at her, noting the small furrow of concern on her flawless face. He was prevented from saying anything further when the door opened to admit the rest of their group in--Jasper, Vincent and Wanda had gone on ahead to the corral with one of the grooms and house attendants to get their luggage and various other creature comforts. Nikolai allowed the latter as he himself admitted secretly that days on the road had made him a bit edgy, not to mention smelling a bit more ripe than he had usually allowed himself. Jasper and Wanda had commented on that particular state of affairs, managing to even bring Eden to add her own voice to theirs. In the end, he capitulated.

Perhaps sleeping on an honest-to-goodness (Jasper’s own words!) clean bed after a thorough washing or soak in a warm bath could be just the thing.

Wanda had been distracted by a litter of puppies sleeping near the small fireplace warming the reception area. A small yip and contented snuffles greeted her gentle pats on their heads as the puppies moved to the gentle touch of her hand. She stood back up from where she had been bending over and looked around her.

“It’s a nice set-up you have here,” she directed her comment to the young woman in charge of the reception.

“Set-up?” the other echoed, confusion evident in her face. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, ma’am.”

“She meant the decorations you have,” Jasper put in smoothly, and Nikolai could feel a gentle wave of calming reassurance eddying towards the woman.

Her confused expression shifted into one of pleased contentment as she replied, “Thank you, sir. Mrs. Dobbins was the one deserving of the credit, though.”

A small hustle of footsteps came from behind them, followed by “Did I hear my name being called?”

“New guests, Aunt Meg,” was offered by their receptionist.

“Well, your rooms should be ready now,” the matronly lady beamed at them, dimples dancing in and out of her plump cheeks as she addressed them. “Why don’t you go and wash and I’ll have some meatloaf, soup and freshly baked sourdough bread ready for you in about half an hour!”

“That sounds heavenly,” Jasper said in response, making a move towards the stairs. “How could we say no to freshly made bread?” he said smiling--and Nikolai could feel another wave--this time one of gentle gratitude--directed at the matronly proprietress.

“Hurry along,” Mrs. Dobbins motioned, patting Wanda on the shoulder. She only refrained her maternal impulses from patting Eden when the blond leveled a quelling gaze on her.

Nikolai shouldered Vincent aside--tossing a halfhearted apology as he did so--and pulled Jasper into one of the rooms assigned to them.

“What on earth--?!?” Jasper managed to squeak out before the giant blond held him against one of the walls.

“You need to control your powers,” Nikolai hissed. “You were broadcasting twice just now!”

“I was?” Jasper asked, chagrined that his control had slipped. “I didn’t know, honestly.”

Nikolai stepped back, huffing as he paced around the small room. “Well, no harm was done,” he shrugged. He moved towards the window, looking out at the horizon brightly lit by the full moon. He turned to Jasper and continued, “Remember how it was like when your powers first manifested?”

Jasper nodded. He still remembered the fear and confusion as he felt the bombardment of other people’s thoughts and emotions before he knew it was the first awakening of his empathic talents.

“You need to do the reverse now,” Nikolai instructed him. “Instead of keeping them out, you keep your own thoughts in.”

Jasper nodded. “I think I can do that,” he said. A pause, as his brows furrowed. “But won’t that make me undetectable to you?”

“Last time I checked, I still have eyes,” Nikolai said with a slight smirk.

Jasper rolled his eyes at the sarcasm. He picked up his rucksack from where it had dropped on the floor when Nikolai had grabbed him and tossed it onto one of the small cots. He went to the small nightstand. A large ewer filled with water and a washing basin had been placed on top of the nightstand, along with a small cake of country soap smelling of lemon and pine needles and several washcloths.

He poured a small portion of water from a ewer standing nearby and lathered his hands with the soap. The ablutions were observed on his face and neck. He lifted one arm and gave himself a small sniff. He grimaced. “Oh, fuck it!” he grumbled darkly and shucked his tunic off, hurling it almost violently onto the cot. He followed his ablutions with a quick scrub of his torso and arms, muttered swear words seemingly to crackle in the air around him as he went about his cleansing.

Nikolai looked up at the dark-haired man, amused despite himself. He had sometimes wondered at how Jasper seemed to live on the very surface of his skin, doing and saying things without seemingly censoring himself. The telepath allowed that the unique trait was what had endeared the tempestuous empath to him, despite their differences. 

He paused slightly at that thought that the differences seem to crop up more frequently of late.

Jasper—and his sister Wanda—had already intimated that he would not be relegated to the position of student or apprentice any longer. His growing command of his abilities, and his degree of confidence in wielding them had now placed both of them close to an even ground. And knowing the other as he did, Jasper will soon re-assert his stance forcefully.

And Nikolai would expect nothing less.

"The Gathering" - Chapter 15

Clashings

We had decided to set up camp earlier than usual, sighting the oncoming heavy bank of dark clouds Wanda had pointed out earlier in the day moving in from the west.

I had finished unrolling our bedding and laying out the condiments for our meal, while Nikki had just returned from tending to the horses. Vincent had managed to evade the chores by the expedient excuse of gathering firewood. I made a mental note to put a stop to future evasions. How to go about it, I’ll worry later. Nikki made short work of starting a fire, years of practice making it all seem o easy.

Vincent now was sprawled leisurely before the fire, rolling a cigarette. One was already tucked behind his ear. That one he’s rolling had better be for me. He had his short sword and small whetstone in front of him.

Nikki suddenly straightened from where he was sitting in front of the fire he had started.

“Hold on,” he said, bringing Vincent and I to a stop. His eyes flashed immediately and he turned towards me. “They’re in danger!” he hissed urgently.

“Who?” Vincent asked, partially in rhetoric. “The girls?”

“Of course, the girls, you idiot!” Nikki snarled as he got up and reached for his sword belt lying on his travelling backpack. His scimitar—his favoured weapon—and a brace of wicked looking daggers glinted in the flickering light of our campfire as he belted them on.

The vehemence in his voice jarred me into movement. I patted the weapons belt on my hip; my slender hafted mace was still in its loop on my belt. I shouldered Wanda’s crossbow and a pack of bolts, swearing against her carelessness in having left them, remembering all she had in terms of weapons are two small daggers. To my left, Vincent hefted his short sword and slid it into its sheath.

“Wait for us,” he tossed at Nikki’s retreating back, moving towards me.

Nikki ignored Vincent as he ran towards where his horse was tethered and --surprisingly for a man his size--gracefully swung himself onto the saddle. He tugged on the reins, turning his horse around and spurred it towards the direction Wanda had taken when she had left us hours ago.

Vincent tugged at my hands, pulling me to my feet where I was frozen in uncertainty. “Come,” I think Rupert could carry both of us.”

That twisted humour jarred me into movement. “You named your horse Rupert?” I asked as I followed him to the back of the wagon. Vincent passed me two small rods, while he looped a bandoleer of throwing daggers around his torso. “Lightrods,” he offered at my uncomprehending look. “Torches will fizzle out in the rain.” He looked up from the short sword he had looped onto his belt and nodded at his horse. “Let’s just say it wasn’t one of my more sterling moments.” he quipped as he clambered onto his mount. “You can ride at the back.”

I looked back at our half-set camp. “What about our belongings?” Even to my ears it sounded asinine. I shook my head as I grabbed his offered hand and climbed onto the horse behind him.

Vincent motioned with his right hand, whispering something in a sibilant language. Our camp, the untended utensils and even the wagon and the horse tethered to it faded from sight, as if water had been spilt onto a freshly painted watercolour.

“Eden taught me that spell,” he offered by way of explanation as he urged his horse into a canter.

The canter slowly turned into a ground-eating gallop as I perched myself behind him, holding on for dear life as the mighty black stallion galloped towards the direction Nikki had taken. The dying light of the dusk still provided sufficient illumination, the plains turned into a burnished light green patina of bronze as the golden light of the sun was caught by the late spring grasses of the plains.

“There’s Nikolai,” Vincent said, his voice almost lost in the thunder of the hooves.

The evening light slowly faded into the dark blue gloom of early night, compounded by the heavy rain clouds. A drop of water landed on the back of my neck.

“It’s starting to rain!” I shouted into his ear. I saw him nod and he urged his horse faster.

Thunder clapped overhead, the clouds lighting up as lightning flashed. It threw the darkening plains into stark relief of white and black. I could see Nikki in front. I reached mentally towards him.

Is it …I couldn’t finish the thought.

Too late? Nikki’s mental voice came. The slight echo accompanying it told me he’s letting Vincent hear the conversation.

I see it! Vincent said, practically shouting into our mind link. He threw an image of what he had picked up from his clairvoyant talents into the shared link.

Leathery wings like a bat, a hairless body clad only in rough leather breeches and clawed hands. The face--eyes soulless pits of night, set deep in a death’s head. Jagged teeth with no lips--

A reaver, Nikki stated flatly. A small spark of emotion flared in my mind, a signal of his deep hatred before it was quelled. I felt him shutting off and withdrawing from our mind link.

I had managed to pick up little bits of knowledge from our time when the three of them had spent countless days in instructing us about this world and its inhabitants but I never came across any mention of the name Nikki had used with such virulent distaste.

A flare of light flashed in front of us, lighting what seemed a small copse of ash several hundred feet in front of us.

There! I pointed out to Vincent, replaying the vision in his mind.

I see it, he acknowledged. You’d better mind-link with me, Jas. he continued to advise.

Why?

It’s dark, and you don’t have night-vision.

I did as he requested, submerging my consciousness and his into a gestalt composite; his portion of the mind that governs sight, vision and corresponding translations thereof and my own mental link ready to capture Wanda and Eden once they’re within range of Vincent’s automatic clairvoyant sight.

The world immediately sprang into clarity in my eyes. Every exquisite detail of the land in twilight around us still retained its washes of Prussian blue and white starkness when bathed in intermittent lightning flashes but it was given depth and added detailing by Vincent’s sight which remained unaffected by the surroundings. The plains became cast now in gradients of blue and white, with differing weight and texture to define them.

Above the clashes of thunder and the now heavy lashings of rain I could hear a shriek piercing the night. It was a shriek of rage and madness all combined in one--one that strikes terror even in the hearts of grown men; I could feel my stomach hurling around, and it was not contributed by the jostling of the infernal galloping speed Vincent had set.

There was a sound akin to the deafening detonation of ten thunders, followed by another shriek. At the periphery of my mind, I could detect the familiar crystalline patterns of Eden’s thoughts and I grabbed at it with my power, melding her vision into the gestalt.

Jasper! I could feel her exultation and at the same time saw through her eyes what she and Wanda were facing. Seeing her, I melded Wanda into our gestalt, planting mental reassurances into her mind as her vision shifted into the same quality as Vincent’s.

The reaver’s back was turnerd towards Eden, its attention was focused on my sister. The pattering droplets brought her protective force field into view, the droplets bouncing off of the dome surrounding her. Her doublet was scuffed and grass-stained but I could see no traces of injury save some scrapes on her elbows and knees.

The reaver made a leap for her, smashing into her forcefield. My psychic senses could actually feel the protective barrier concave from the force of the creature’s impact.

I could feel Eden’s mind spark with powerful thoughts, even as images of runes—symbols and formulas of magical power—flashed through our shared mind link. There was a moment’s pause—which I knew in the real world is only a fraction of a second—before the spell took effect.

The witch pointed and a crackling arc of electricity shot down from the dark clouds above. It struck the reaver on its side, scoring a deep furrow and setting the haphazard bonds of cloth that made up its attire on fire.

I could feel the familiar touch of Nikki’s mind as he rejoined our mind-link. Jasper, I’ll need you to hold the link.

Why? I asked, despite myself.

I’m going to hammer this thing’s mind to a pulp, and I need every single ounce of concentration I can muster. He explained. There was a pause before he snapped, Don’t argue with me!

Sir! Yes, sir! I retorted. I could feel Vincent’s mirth—however inappropriate considering our situation—flooding the background of our mind-link.

I shifted my mind towards the battle with the reaver. I could feel Nikki nearing the copse, where Eden and Wanda had cannily positioned themselves on opposing sides of the reaver. I could see earlier how the witch would attack with magical lightning bolts called down from the rain-heavy clouds when its distracted by my sister but how could Wanda mount any assault when it’s going after Eden? I discounted my sister’s facility with inventive profanity as highly unlikely.

I got my answer moments later when I saw the reaver stumbling to its knees. Was that …? my thoughts trailed off  as I focused on seeing through Wanda’s eyes and mind. I could feel the flare of Wanda’s thoughts as she willed her force field to elongate forcefully into a battering ram to hammer at the reaver’s legs.

Eden then followed up with another bolt of lightning. The creature shrieked in fury.

I felt a thread of worry flashed in Eden’s mind. She had not prepared many offensive spells for the day, and she had already winnowed down her list to only two other options.

Vincent’s mind flared urgently, Save your spells! his mental voice barked through the mind-link, even as his line of vision suddenly banked out as if seeing from a bird’s eye view. I could see the two of us on a horse galloping, only another five-hundred metres away while Nikki had already reached them.

I could feel Eden’s screaming towards my sister through the mind-link, simultaneously calling down another bolt of lightning towards the creature. This time the reaver managed to evade the deadly arc, leaving the bolt to hit into the ground leaving the smell of charred loam and burnt ozone. “Hit him again!” she repeated.

Through the droplets of rain pattering on the edges of her force field, I could see it change form. From elongated force field shifted into a spatula-like shape. I could almost feel Vincent trying to contain his laughter at the irony of the humour until the force field came down forcefully on the reaver, flattening it into the ground. It was joined by another lightning bolt Eden had called down, leaving the reaver staggering to its feet.

Nikki had already reached them, unsheathing his scimitar and a dagger in an effortlessly smooth movement. An overhand cast sent the dagger spinning and thudding into its back, near the kidneys. The reaver turned, only to meet whiplike slashes to its face from Nikki’s scimitar. The muscular blonde danced nimbly clear from the reaver’s clumsily clutching claws and fired a mental thrust with his telepathic powers.

This shriek this time carried an undertone of fear.

I reached out tentatively with my mind, just a minute brush with its thoughts. Images of carnage, murder and destruction flooded me in a massive wave and I almost retched at the images and such primal bloodlust echoing through its mind. Only the rigid mental blocks Nikki had tirelessly drilled into me kept the wave away, but not before I almost stumbled off of Rupert. Only Vincent’s fast reflexes kept me from falling off. At such speed we’re galloping I have no illusions on what would happen to me had I fallen wrongly; I’d be lucky to sustain broken bones.

Nikki had manage to score another—albeit minor—hit, rending one leathery section of its wings torn. Eden’s lightning bolt missed again, but Wanda’s improvised battering ram towards its side sent it spinning on its feet facing Nikki’s scimitar which scored a shallow gash on its chest when the telepath managed to duck under its massive reach.

An alarm flashed through Vincent, jumping towards Nikki. With the ease and automatic response of people who had worked well and seamlessly together, Nikki translated Vincent’s warning correctly.

The massive blonde dropped to his knees, as the reaver’s bat-like wings closed in an embrace designed to trap him. Pushing back with one foot, he slid outwards from the deadly cocoon, as his scimitar swept upwards along its massive thighs.

The shriek of pain the reaver emitted if possible trebled as this new injury almost incapacitated it. The trace of fear had now increased and the cumulative injuries are starting to make their presence known by its disjointed movements. My empathic talents picked up on that pain. Bracing myself, I hurled my mind down the narrow avenue this new emotion opened up.

Speeding along flares of thoughts and emotions in the creature’s mind—pain, fear and hunger—I immersed my mind in the background of its thoughts. Once I reached the epicenter of the maelstrom that churned within, I mentally reached into the part of its mind that governed its senses. As each senses quivered with assorted stimuli and I blanketed it with a thick cocoon of numbness. Each quiver of stimuli received is like a thrumming string on a harp that I quelled mentally, rendering them inert and still.

And I slowly shut them down.

One by one.

I started with its sense of touch. Several seconds later, its sense of smell.

In the real world, thanks to our gestalt mind-link I could see the reaver starting to sense something is amiss. It started to sniff at the air, disbelief worming its way through its mind as Nikki’s telepathic assault hammered inwards. Vincent had reached the copse, lightrods flaring and shedding additional light in the rain-soaked twilight. The reaver reared back in pain, clutching its head as Nikki’s assault rendered it insensible. Vincent took adavnatge of the exposed torso by plunging his short sword in its abdomen and gave it a twist and a jerk upwards. The reaver’s left arm swatted at him but the clairvoyant’s sharp senses and reflexes had him rolling safely away before the blow managed to connect. Eden followed up the advantage with another lightning called down.

It flapped its wings, futilely trying to fly away but with its sense of touch gone it couldn’t translate if the flapping sails of leathery membrane had found purchase. Vincent jumped onto its back, jamming one of his throwing daggers into its exposed ear canal. At the same time, Nikki’s expert swordsmanship sliced its hamstrings before the blonde danced away. As Vincent vaulted away in a graceful back-flip, Wanda’s improvised battering ram got him squarely in the back.

Ensconced partially as I was in the reaver’s mind, even with its sense of touch dulled, I could feel the effects of the blade going in its ears—not deep enough to lacerate the sensitive brain tissue; the crippling tumble of being hamstrung; but Wanda’s attack—hurled with such force, amplified by her rage and desperation—shattered its spine.

It tumbled onto the ground, splayed at an impossible angle.

“Die, bastard,” Eden hissed as she called down the last volleys of lightning bolts to strike twice more.

The resulting heap of burnt flesh and leathery membrane smoldered for a while, before the rain dispersed of the embers into nothingness.

Overhead, the sky flashed again with thunder, leaving the five of us in the rain-lashed night.

"The Gathering" - Chapter 14

Hunting, Taunting

He sped along. His wings making soft threshing sounds as they beat rhythmically. It had been two days since his quarries had reached the port and boarded the sleek caravel. The immense blue expanse of the sea lay below him, dwarfing the small speck of the ship as it crested the waves towards what he surmised to be the port city of Saint Anne. It was the only port close enough for the ship without straining its resources and cosmopolitan enough to accommodate them to wherever his marks designated as their destination.

The searing blaze of the sun burned across his leathery back. He could sense the life-force he had consumed from his last night’s hunt coursing through him. It was an elderly tinker, traveling the night and trusting to luck. Well, his luck had run out on him and left him vulnerable.

Left him dead.

He shook his head against the leftover echo of the man’s soul as his life-force fed and powered him. Every life-force he consumed left a small imprint of their memories, knowledge and abilities within him. With every feeding he would retain mastery over these abilities, knowing that a long time between feeding would render the psychic echoes lost and unusable.

His kind had always had their preferred prey, feeling that the prey’s abilities would supplement their own innate abilities. His preferred one are mentalists; loving the feel of their psychic abilities slide within his consciousness as their life-force slowly energized him. He hoped that the telepath were of sufficient power and experience. 

He growled in anticipation. His wings beat faster, sending a louder throosh in the air as the increased speed burst carried him further ahead of the speck of black-brown on the surface of the sea. 

He will wait ahead of them, he decided. In the meantime, there are allies he needed to ensure the outcome would be in his favour.

Ahead, the shoreline awaited …


* * *


Eden looked up from the saddle she was cinching towards Jasper. Her ice-blue eyes studied the rangy form in front of her, her exquisite face not betraying the rush of turmoil spinning in her mind. Jasper was making some off-colour joke about asses and mules that she found somewhat distasteful.

She did not want to like this man. It was not because he was a human. His powers had made that a moot point. She knew Jasper had managed to pierce the carefully structured makeup of her mind--just as how she had formed her surface thoughts to act as a locked door, she also knew when someone had managed to enter through that selfsame door. She had been impressed at Jasper’s skills; the featherlike, almost indiscernible sensation the empath had left as he had flitted from thought to thought.

And he is only discovering what he could do.

Eden had read enough of the history of the Prime Plane to know the results of a madman’s rantings regarding racial superiority and the ensuing Holocaust. She reflected that perhaps the two worlds were not so different after all. It is like a microcosm of what had led to the expulsion of her forebears to this dimension so many eons ago.

Race against race. Fey against fey. Brother against sister. She closed her eyes at the small pain the thought evoked in her. Although matriarchal, spellweaver society had functioned on the ideals of equality. While it may seemed that females hold visible offices of power it was actually  the males that had managed the little-seen details behind the carefully masked front their race had effected. They had discovered earlier on that their births produced a disproportionate number of females: females outnumber males four to one. Feeling that the conventional patriarchal bent prevalent in most of their fey brethren societies may not work for them, they had closely allied themselves with dryads and werebeasts in an alliance of mutual beneficence.

In terms of genetics which they had discovered later, spellweavers are the closest to humans in structure, albeit with a slightly longer lifespan but not enough to raise suspicion as in cases should they were to coexist side by side. Carefully monitored breeding programs between the three allied races had produced racial unity and genetic drifts among them. Some dryads and werebeasts--savants, as they’re called--exhibited an affinity for magic while some spellweavers developed superior constitution and greater physical strength.

Only four clans from each of the allied races had maintained strict purity of bloodlines. This is to preserve their uniqueness of heritage--not because of any perceived innate superiority, but to offset and cycle the primary genetic gifts of each race.

It had worked well for them for ages untold, until the War came. Now, after countless epochs had gone the twelve clans had convened ten years ago and decided to send a representative to the outside world. Never again will they stand aloof from the events moving about them, they decided. For better of worse, the twelve clans and their affiliates will make a stand.

To the south, they sent a werebeast scion. The youngest prince of their ruling house, for a race known for their warlike might will be needed to traverse the immense continent.

To the east they sent a dryad princess. The wildly enchanting beauty of a fey princess is not to be underestimated when dealing with regal elves and reticent dwarves.

To the west, a spellweaver Maiden of the Third Clan. Eden’s lips twisted in a wry humour at the semantic differences. They could’ve just called me Princess and be done with it.

She had offered her services at the Academy, working as an instructor for those mentalists who showed magical aptitude. Even as a junior instructor at the time, she had heard of Nikolai Pedersen and his accomplishments. She was tasked by her matriarch to keep a close eye on him, and when he had volunteered to be one of the Prime’s operatives she had followed suit.

She was not quite prepared for the chill welcome she had received when she was first introduced. Her Royal-like rank meant nothing, nor does her magical abilities meant for much. She was forced to prove herself just an able soldier in a group that played host to the myriad races populating their world. Little by little, she learned the value of humility--if not its practice.

A curse--Motherfucker!--brought her attention to the here and now. Jasper had ended up on his back three feet from her. The pack mule that he had irritated earlier had resumed its study of resigned waiting. The dark-haired man then grinned up at her. 

“Oh, hi Eden,” he offered cheerily. “Nice seeing you!” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at her.

Eden blushed indignantly as her hand made a move towards her the riding skirt she was wearing. A cluck of disapproval made her turn towards Wanda. Jasper’s sister had just finished tying back her wealth of midnight curls in a leather thong Vincent had given her when they had boarded the ship six days ago at Holmburg--the woman’s mass of curls had tossed and flapped this way and that in the strong breeze, to the brunette’s distress. Vincent had wordlessly handed the length of leather twine to her then, smiling slightly as he remarked that her wind-tossed mane made her look like part-dryad. Eden had managed to swallow the distaste she felt at how Wanda’s seeming ease at wrapping men around her well-formed fingers. First Vincent, then Nikolai … she repressed a small sigh as she turned towards the pair of siblings.

“Peeking up skirts?” Wanda was admonishing her brother. She placed her hands akimbo on her hips, disapproval radiating like waves off of a stove as she speared her irrepressible brother with a glare.

“She’s got nice legs,” Jasper cheekily offered, beginning to sit up while tossing a wink at Eden. He got up, dusting his back. “We ready to leave?”

“In a bit,” Eden answered. “We’re still waiting for Nikolai and Vincent.” 

Despite her earlier impression that she did not want to like this man, Eden had to admit that the man’s irreverent humour was starting to grow on her. She could do without the sarcastic barbs, though, she reflected. Jasper’s barbs had a way of leaving you wondering if he was just joking or in earnest.

She spied Nikolai and Vincent coming towards them, leading two draft horses hitched to a wagon. This wagon is slightly larger than the one they had appropriated from Prime Andra. The crowd had melted away, as if sensing the potential danger the larger man exuded. Eden noted the way the blonde man had a slightly dazed look on his face. He was scanning, Eden decided. She made a note to ask him later. Nikolai rarely let his face betray his thoughts.

But escorting a powerful empath and his sister is rarity itself, she thought darkly.

Their travel began with them falling in line with the other travelers leaving the port city of Saint Anne. They trudged slowly, letting the swarm of outgoing travelers and chain of caravans overtake them while they maintained a slow and steady speed. They needn’t have worried. The cobbled streets of the port city were wide and traffic well-regulated to prevent delays and resulting tempers.

Eden waited until their group had broken away from the crowd of draft horses and bundled textiles heading towards the highlands of Morana to the south of the coast before she nudged her horse closer to Nikolai’s, making sure that Vincent was not within earshot.

“What did you find out?” she asked him, her hushed voice still carrying well above the clip-clop of their horses’ hooves.

“Someone has a following here, it seems,” he answered cryptically. He leaned his head back, a long carrying glance making her follow his towards the wagon following about ten feet behind them. “Make that two someones,” he amended wryly.

“Jasper and Wanda?”

“Seems like it,” the telepath shrugged his massive shoulders.

“How did you arrive to that conclusion?” she pressed.

“Someone has been asking about them.” A pause. “Quite detailed descriptions, actually. He even described Jasper’s chatoyancy in detail.” Eden remembered that Jasper’s left eye has a slight marbled effect; there was a spot of amber with green flecks on the upper iris. There was a small nod of grudging approval from Nikolai. “I have to admire this person’s effort, though.”

Eden caught the singular reference. “Only one?” she guessed.

“He’s been around the docks some five days before we arrived,” Nikolai answered her. “Spent quite a small wealth at the taverns, too. Nothing to worry much, though,” he smiled bleakly. “I don’t think he means any harm.”

“What makes you say that?”

“The most frequent image I managed to lift from scanning around is a pendant in the shape of a crescent moon, made of beaten silver,” he glanced at her meaningfully.

“A Silvershield?” Eden voiced out the answer, using the common term used to refer to priests of the goddess of the moon.

“A Journeyman, I believe.” A small smile. “I think he’s only newly ordained. He wasn’t exactly subtle.”

Eden sat back in her saddle, absorbing this new development. On one hand, she wasn’t concerned. A priest of Selene--one of the goodly aligned deities--cannot possibly mean them harm. On the other hand, what Nikolai had described of the priest’s bumbling attempts at intelligence gathering annoyed her. She did not foresee this going smoothly.

A clatter of hooves alerted them to Vincent’s arrival. Eden turned in her saddle. The smaller man had cantered ahead of the wagon, where they could hear Jasper’s smoky tenor lifted in a ditty--something about a fairytale and heading up north was what she managed to capture. She realized that she hadn’t talked to the clairvoyant for some days now, not counting the small talk engendered by passing by each other during their journey. She admitted that she was slightly nonplussed at his seeming abandonment, and was retrospectively punishing him.

“Yes, Vincent?” she asked archly. “Wanda too much for you to handle?”

“Or maybe he can’t handle Jasper’s barbs?” Nikolai suggested, joining her line of conversation.

“Haha,” Vincent retorted good-naturedly. “I know you missed me, Edie,” he returned smartly at Eden. 

“I don’t appreciate that permutation of my name, Vincent,” Eden warned him, affronted at the overly familiar nickname he had seen fit to append to her.

“Oh, suck it,” Vincent tossed blithely. Having spent more time on the Prime Plane had increased his repertoire of slang and modes of speech he had absorbed while keeping tabs on their various enterprises. Eden sometimes couldn’t quite catch the inference behind them. Suck what? she wondered bewilderedly.

Vincent waved his earlier remark, not caring enough apparently to smooth the witch’s ruffled temper. “Are you aware that we’re being followed?” he asked Nikolai.

Nikolai and Eden exchanged a glance. “That’s interesting,” Nikolai stated noncommittally. “What makes you say that?”

“Not me,” Vincent shook his head. “Jas and Wanda called it.”

“Really,” Eden drawled. 

Vincent laughed, but his laughter was devoid of mirth. “Look,” he said, spearing a warning at her. “I know you don’t really like Wanda and Jasper. But you agreed to join us; if I’d known you’re going to an absolute bitch about it, I’d have requested Alyx to join instead.”

“What!?” Eden sputtered. “I’m more qualified than Alyxandra!” 

“Maybe,” Vincent shrugged. “But she’s also a highly trained warmage, and she doesn’t have a bug up her ass about most things.”

“I do not have a--”Eden began hotly, then broke off, turning to look at Nikolai. “I’m not a bitch,” she said, her voice small. She hadn’t realized that she had reined her horse in--all three of them had--until the trundle of wagon wheels came. There came a soft crunching sound from Wanda as she bit into an apple. She and Jasper were looking expectantly at the three of them.

“Are we having a meeting I didn’t know about?” came Jasper’s voice. His raised eyebrow was arched sardonically. He glanced at her, understanding dawning in his eyes. “Oh,” he said suddenly, even as the understanding turned into a small pitying sigh. “I see.”

It was too much for Eden. The carefully maintained control she had worked on suddenly left her. Feeling unexpectedly bereft of the iron core of strength she had always relied on, the witch tugged at her reins and shouldered away from Vincent and Nikolai. She urged her horse into a gallop, wanting to leave the empath and his pitying look. Away from the telepath and the clairvoyant with their all-seeing, all-knowing gifts. Away from the brunette with her midnight curls and teasing, saucy eyes. 

Eden, came Nikolai’s mental voice, a small note of plea contained within them. Come back.

Leave me alone, she thought. She urged her horse further, to get out of reach from his normal range.

Come back.

No!

Please. The pleading note came again, stronger. Come back.

Then suddenly, Nikolai stopped throwing his mental voice at her. She paused, drawing on the reins making the horse slow down into a canter. It surprised Eden that Nikolai hadn’t enforced it with a mental command, taking over her motor functions, overriding her mind’s commands over her person and made her turn back. After a moments reflection, she realized she could no longer hear him in her head.

It was just as well, she decided. Her horse was tired. She mentally calculated the distance, and guessed she had exceeded his normal mental range of eight miles. She stopped her horse near a copse, feeling the animal’s quivering flanks beneath her gloved fingers. She spied a small stream, the bubbling waters spilling merrily among the rocks of its bed.

She got down, and guided the horse over to the stream. Taking her waterskin, she finished the dregs of water contained and got down to refill it with water from the stream. Her horse had finished drinking and eyed her patiently. She patted his nose affectionally, earning her returning nuzzle as her mount breath softly against her ear. She leashed the animal to a nearby tree, having decided after looking up at the sky that she may as well rest here for a while.


* * *

Wanda looked up from the apple she was eating at the retreating back of the witch as her horse galloped away. She flashed Nikolai and Vincent a searing look. “Oh, well done,” she sneered.

“What?” Vincent shot back, seemingly at a loss for words. “What did I do?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” was Wanda’s sharp retort. She traded a complicit glance with her brother.

“Don’t look at me,” Jasper warned, taking up the reins again. “You two started it.”

“I did not!” Nikolai denied heatedly.

“Whatever, Cleopatra,” Jasper sniffed in retort. He shook his reins. “If you don’t mind some advise, leave her some space for now.”

“Why?” Nikolai asked, a belligerent cast on his features. Jasper sensed he was not used to losing control, and wanted to have someone to blame.

“Because you screwed up,” Jasper explained succinctly. “And Vincent screwed up. And she screwed up. All of us are a mess in one way or the other. I think the threads need to work themselves loose for now.”

Nikolai had lifted his face towards the direction that Eden had taken. Jasper could sense his mind reaching out, even as he grabbed the half-eaten apple from Wanda’s grasp. 

“Hey--!” she said in surprise but was cut off by the sight of her brother throwing the apple at Nikolai. It collided smartly with the side of the telepath’s head, eliciting a snort of laughter from her.

“I said to leave her alone Niki, and I mean it,” Jasper snapped, an unusual note of command in his voice. “She’ll come back when she’s sorted things out.”

“How sure are you?” Vincent fired at him.

“Where else is she going to find food?” Jasper smirked. He looked at the mid-morning sky. “I give her maximum of till sundown.”

“Maybe sooner,” Wanda interjected, pointing to a dark bank of clouds on the horizon.

Nikolai and Vincent looked at each other. He could sense the telepath mentally conversing with the smaller man but decided he did not really care to eavesdrop on the conversation. The blonde shrugged. “Fine,” he said flatly. “We’ll do it your way for now.”

“Shall we move right along, then?” Jasper asked airily.


* * *


There was a patter of water drops. Loud. Steady. The sound woke her up. Rain, she realized. Chagrined, Eden sat up as she realized that she had dozed off. She brushed her hair away from her face, gathering them up in a small knot at the nape of her back until she realized that her hair was dry.

As dry as her clothing. And the ground she was sitting on. 

She looked around, gauging it to be twilight. Her horse was still securely tied. He was dry as well. There was a glimmer of a flickering light behind her. She gathered her knees under her, calling to mind a firebolt spell. There was something going on that she didn’t know and she was not a fan of surprises.  

“I thought you’d wake up soon,” Wanda’s voice came from behind her. 

Eden turned, letting go of the spell she had held ready in her mind. The brunette was sitting cross-legged on the ground, a spread blanket laden with food in front of her. A small copper lantern sat in front of her, placing it between them.

“The rest had gone on ahead,” Wanda said, seeing her unasked question. “It’s just us girls here.” She motioned to the spread of country bread, cheese and dried fruit. “I’m guessing you wouldn’t mind some food?”

“Not at all,” the blonde confirmed. She made her way to sit in front of Wanda and accepted a cup from the brunette. She took a sip. “This is unexpected,” she hazarded cautiously.

Wanda took a sip from her cup, her eyebrows raised in an unasked question.

Eden sighed, then a took a deep breath. “I wasn’t expecting anything charitable,” she explained hesitantly. “At least, not from you.”

“Fair point,” Wanda acknowledged. “I would’ve thought you an idiot, if you did.”

Eden took a small nibble from the dried apricot in her fingers and said, “Explain.”

“It’s no secret--and don’t try to deny it--that I’m not exactly one of your favourite people,” Wanda stated, a faint note of challenge in her voice. “And I don’t mind that at all.” She shrugged, sending her ponytail of curls bouncing. “I’ve been called and thought of as worse,” she added, a small sardonic smile twitched on her lips. “I’ve had to work extra hard at school, at work--in life, generally--to prove I’m not just a pretty face. And if you expected charity when you hardly deserve it, then you’re an idiot.”

“Let me make sure I understand you correctly,” Eden quizzed the brunette. “You don’t mind that I don’t like you but you don’t think I deserve grace or charity?”

“Funny thing, those words,’” Wanda observed. “Do you think you are befitting of them? Of graciousness, or even charity?”

“You and your brother go straight for the jugular, don’t you?” Eden noted.

“Hardly,” Wanda snorted. “Jasper would flay you alive.” Knowing what she did of Jasper’s occasional aggressively cruel taunts, Eden had to agree with Wanda. Wanda continued, “I just don’t see a point in beating about the bush. The way I looked at it, for some reason you took it upon yourself to hold me as persona non grata and I’m fine with that; you’re the one with the problem, not me.”

“Fair enough, I suppose,” Eden winced, not liking the fact that Wanda was right.

“Now,” Wanda sighed, as she brushed the crumbs of the bread from her hands. “Do you think you can stop the mind games?”

“What do you mean?” Eden asked, her guard up, sensing Wanda was coming to a potentially sensitive issue.

“Playing dumb, are we?” Wanda exhaled in exasperation. “Fine. Have it your way.” She bent forward to gather the far edge of the blanket.

Eden looked at her, unsure how to pursue the beginning understanding between them. She waved her fingers around them. “Are you the one doing this? Keeping us dry?”

“Guilty,” Wanda admitted. “I’ve been experimenting on my own.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“Long enough,” Wanda answered with a smirk. “An umbrella projection to shelter us and your horse--”

A sharp whinny from Eden’s horse stopped her. Another whinny and they could see that the animal was agitated, his mouth foam-flecked in near-hysteria as it gnashed at the bridle. 

“What on earth--?” Eden wondered aloud. She recalled the previously abandoned firebolt spell to mind.

The light from Wanda’s lantern threw its small circle of light around them as the brunette stood next to her. “What is it?” Wanda asked her, her voice hushed.

“Nothing,” Eden answered slowly. She turned towards Wanda and motioned the other woman to keep silent. Around the copse, no sound came. No crickets or cicadas beating their dusk-time chitterings. “There’s no sound.”

Another frightened whinny came from her horse. It was wrestling against the leash tied to the small tree branch, frantically trying to get away. Eden rushed towards her horse, trying to placate him or get him under control. 

She need not have bothered.

The animal suddenly reared up, a maddened neigh coming out from the depths of his being and was just as suddenly ended in a dull thudding sound and a wet ripping and splattering. Droplets splashed across Eden’s face. At first, she thought it was the rain now that she had exited the shelter of Wanda’s improvised umbrella. As the sharp coppery tang hit her nostril, she knew what it was.

Her horse collapsed. Literally. It slumped, turned towards her. The darkening light of twilight still allowed her to see the animal resting on its side, but what drew her eyes was the eviscerated cavity spilling its innards and other viscera that she could see. The folds of flesh had been ripped apart.

A dark shape extricated itself from the body of the horse. The rain and the worsening light had made the it almost indiscernible from the dead animal at first but now that the shape had advanced towards her, she could see the pitted skin and the pinions of leathery wings rising from behind massive shoulders.

A shriek sounded in the dusk …