"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.