Mud and Magic Ch. 12

"Divine intervention," Thurguz grumbled.

Rhys looked from Astra'il to him. "What?"

"Thurguz is right," the dark elf said softly, barely audible across the Entrance Hall. "Maybe Hilgrun's patron deity didn't want to let her go. Or something -- someone else might have intercepted her soul."

"And there's nothing we can do about it?" Rhys demanded to know.

Lishaka noticed something else about him -- a strange green glow emanating from his right hand. She looked closer and spotted a silver ring on his index finger. Five miniature stars seemed to burn in the metal, bright enough to cast tiny lights against the closest wall. Next to her, Chassari loudly cleared her throat. Every head in the room turned to face them.

"Sssorry to intrude," the purple-scaled serpentkind said, bowing slightly. "We're back." Clasping Lishaka's hand, she purposefully strode across the Entrance Hall. "What happened here?" She indicated a pile of discarded medical supplies -- bloody bandages, empty potion bottles, blank and partly dissolved spell scrolls -- someone had shoved into an alcove.

Rhys limped down the stairs. With some effort, he went to a knee and pulled Lishaka into a fierce hug. "I'm so glad you're safe," he muttered into her fiery red topknot.

"Hey, don't crush little ol' me," the goblin sputtered, returning the hug with gusto. Waves of power seemed to radiate off Rhys like heat from an oven. The goblin pecked a shy kiss onto his stubbly cheek. "Nice to see you're still in one piece."

"More or less," he muttered before letting her go. Grunting softly, he pulled himself into a standing position and wrapped Chassari into an embrace as well.

The serpent-woman melted against him and devoured his mouth with her own, drawing a couple raised eyebrows from those close by. She eventually broke her kiss and smiled. "You're a hard man to find, Rhys. I've had sssome Imperial mages try and track you down but, whatever they did, you sssimply didn't regissster."

"That must be the magic of the elven woods," Astra'il said.

"Or my failure to provide a ssscrying component besssides my own memoriesss," Chassari said with a naughty grin. "Anyway, it'sss good to sssee you all." She slipped from Rhys' embrace and hugged Borna. "You look different."

The coat-covered demon princess offered a weak grin. "Rhys saw fit to buy me some clothes," she said. "Now get off me. This is not the time."

Astra'il softly cleared her throat. "If I may, I'd like to stay here and prepare your friend for her funeral. Where will you lay her to rest?"

"There's a crypt below," Thurguz grumbled. "You should find everything to prepare the body over there." He nodded towards the hallway leading to the kitchen and laundry rooms. "Feel free to ask the staff if you need anything. You others, come with me. We need to talk."

"We damn well do," Rhys muttered.

* * * *

Rhys looked at the door of the Common Room. It leaned on the wall opposite its frame, one of the hinges snapped in two. The three magical windows inside bathed the room in an everchanging glow, drawing the eye. Rhys stepped inside. On one of the sofas, a diaphanous green gown hung over the backrest, discarded and forgotten. A few chairs had been knocked over.

"What the hell happened here?" he asked. "The room looks like a battlefield." The atmosphere was all wrong too. Before, the Common Room had exuded a calming atmosphere and laughter was never far away. Now, the flickering windows, the upturned furniture -- it all felt wrong somehow.

"I'd call that a spirited brawl," Borna muttered. "Did Celeste do all this too? And if she did, in the Burning Hells, why?

Thurguz got the chairs in order. "Sit." He opened a cabinet and pulled glasses and a wine bottle from it. "I think we could all use a drink. Or five." Grunting, he sunk down into an armchair. Lishaka slid onto a sofa next to Rhys while Chassari claimed one for herself. Borna remained standing, a ramrod-straight presence behind Rhys' sofa, her armor-plated fingers on his shoulder. Lishaka eyed them suspiciously before looking around, a quizzical expression on her face. Rhys noticed a curious piece of eyewear she had strapped to her head, a faceted red lens sitting on a hinge atop her brow.

"Are you all right, Lisha?" Rhys asked, pulling the squirming goblin closer.

"I have the oddest feeling, like I'm being watched by someone I can't see." She craned her neck dangerously. "Is that you, Rhyssie? Or am I just going mad?"

Her gaze wandered through the room, taking in the disparate images on the windows. Rhys followed her gaze. One window depicted endless rolling dunes, punctuated by immense bone structures like spinal columns or monolithic rib cages breaking through the sand.

Another showed a lush, green jungle at sunset, slanted rays of sunlight like golden lances aiming for the ground beneath the thick, leafy canopy. There seemed to be movement everywhere, flitting shadows jumping from branch to branch, flapping wings racing past the window. Rhys wondered how it all would sound. Probably a cacophony of screams and dying things.

Through the third window, Rhys saw a vast stretch of ocean churned by heavy gales. He caught glimpses of flickering orange between the waves. A ship? Or an island? Hard to tell.

Snarling, Lishaka flipped down the lens so that it covered her eye and looked around the sofa once more.

Haloryth stopped close by and tried her best to sit on the armrest opposite Lishaka. The goblin's eyes were glued to her general location.

"I think she can see me," the elven spirit said. "Never thought I'd see a goblin with such a keen perception. And such a nifty magic item."

"Shall I introduce you?" Rhys asked her. He noticed Borna's grip tighten and Lishaka's face snapping his way. "What?" he asked, slightly irritated.

"Since when can you speak Elven?" Lishaka exclaimed.

"Definitely Elven," Borna added. She brushed Rhys' hair aside and inspected his ear critically. "No points yet."

"Who's Haloryth?" Lishaka asked.

"I'd like to know as well," Thurguz said. "I've heard the name come up earlier, but now I'm intrigued. I'm sensing a sixth presence in this room."

"Fine, I'll start," Rhys sighed. "Although I'm dying to know what the hell happened while we were away. I mean, how bad can things get in what, twelve days?"

"You have no idea, lad," Thurguz grumbled, sipping his wine. His face was lined with worry and his cheek and jaw bones seemed to strain against his skin. His eyes sat deep within their sockets and his usually firmly braided topknot framed his face in unkempt, loose strands. He looked utterly defeated and drained. Twice as bad as I feel, Rhys thought with a twinge of sympathy. His hand massaged his left knee then he looked Thurguz in the eyes.

"How much do you know about the outcome of our mission?" Rhys asked.

"Only what Chassari told me when we spoke, six days ago. You raided the camp and stayed behind to cover Chassari's and Lishaka's escape. We now know what Carver was looking for."

"So it was all worth it?" Rhys asked. "I mean, I wouldn't have minded some help when Faedal showed up and beat me senseless."

"What now?" Thurguz looked appalled. "Faedal was there? If I had known-"

"Well, yeah, he was there and he nearly killed me. Without Borna to pull my ass out of danger, I would probably be in Carver's hands -- or worse. And you didn't even think to watch over me?"

Thurguz growled dangerously. "Remember, boy. The last time we had this conversation, you demanded to be treated like one of my fully-trained agents. I usually don't come running at the first sign of danger." He cut off Rhys' inevitable outburst with a slash of his meaty paw. "And from where I'm sitting, you look like you did just fine. People get hurt in the field. You wanted to be treated like an adult, you got what you asked for."

Rhys opened his mouth for a sharp retort when a disturbing thought hit him like a zombie's fist out of nowhere. He's right. I asked for this. I yelled at him. Another sobering thought wormed its way into his brain. Did Celeste talk me into it? Or was that my frustration after seeing what happened to my village, to Mirrin? He closed his mouth with a sharp click of teeth on teeth.

"So, what happened after you escaped from Faedal's clutches?" Thurguz asked, a hint of his old self creeping back into his voice.

"I dragged his unconscious ass halfway across the elven woods before Astra'il happened upon us," Borna explained. "She did her best in fixing Rhys' knee and helped us back towards the 'Dancing Dryad.'" She nudged Rhys. "You should probably tell them about the Disjunction Stone."

Rhys' stomach knotted up as he remembered the feeling of utter helplessness when Faedal fed him the magic-eating trinket. "Faedal, that bastard, made me eat one."

Thurguz and Lishaka inhaled sharply. "That's why you didn't send a message?"

"Well, that, and I don't know the spell yet. Idunn taught me how to scry before we left but, since I thought Lisha would be with me, I didn't bother," Rhys grudgingly admitted. "Same with Teleport." He hung his head. "I think I've learned my lesson."

"You made it back to the 'Dryad,'" Thurguz said. "Then what?"

Rhys' looked over his shoulder at Borna and blushed. Even the towering demon princess cast down her gaze. "We... rested for a night."

"Rested, huh?" Lishaka asked, nudging his ribs with her elbow. "We need to talk, Rhyssie."

He locked gazes with the grinning greenskin. "We do. I have seen you."

"What, in your dreams?" Lishaka giggled. "That's sweet."

"No," Borna answered in Rhys' stead. "That idiot tried to test the limits of his scrambled magic by casting a Scry on a shaving mirror. I had to deal with his concussed head afterwards." She blushed furiously. To Rhys' surprise, Lishaka did as well, her face turning a dark shade of green.

"Anyway," Borna snarled, trying to steer the conversation along safer pathways, "the next morning we met a Death priest who offered us a job in exchange for a big pile of coin. Investigate a desecrated elven tomb. So Astra'il, Rhys and I did just that, along with some elven jackass who said he owed Rhys a blood debt."

Thurguz perked up. "What did you find?"

"One of Carver's Raighbaern," Rhys continued. "Instead of guarding the supply camp -- and making things really difficult for us there -- he was obsessed with turning his extended High Mage family into more undead abominations."

Thurguz raised an eyebrow. "You defeated it?"

"Barely. While everyone else kept that thing busy, I repaired a Soul Trap and used it to imprison the Raighbaern's soul."

"You did? Impressive."

"Not as impressive as the Teleports afterwards," Borna said, obvious pride in her voice. "First he sent the Soul Trap to the Sword Divide, where it hopefully sits on the ground of the ocean for all eternity, and then he teleported Astra'il, himself and me back here."

"After Haloryth bequeathed an old family heirloom to me," Rhys said, raising his right hand. The ring sparkled and glowed. "It amplifies the wearer's magic when ... how did she phrase it? When the souls bonded to me are nearby."

"That does explain a little. But who's Haloryth again?" Lishaka asked impatiently.

Before Rhys could answer, there was a rush of movement. A moment later, his consciousness moved sideways as Haloryth muscled hers into his mind.

"Hello," she said, using Rhys' vocal chords to modulate her particular tone of voice. "My name is Haloryth Vasadil, formerly third High Mage of Sunleaf. Now I'm haunting Rhys' Ring of Souls. Apologies if I should cause any kind of problems."

"Wait, what?" Lishaka asked. "There's a ghost haunting you? Does that mean... she can see everything you do?"

"Do not worry. I will happily respect Rhys' privacy when he is engaging in carnal activities. Although you probably won't even notice me should I watch. I can be very discreet."

"But now I'll always be thinking that there's a horny elf looking over his shoulder-" Lishaka complained.

Chassari hissed loudly, cutting off the sputtering goblin. "I don't want to ruin the mood but what the hell exactly happened here? When last we ssspoke, everything was rosesss and rainbowsss, now we come back home, there'sss a corpse in the Entrance Hall and everyone ssseemes to be missing. Please explain!"

Thurguz seemed to deflate right in front of their eyes. "Celeste has gone mad."

Haloryth vacated Rhys' mind, leaving him dizzy.

"Galdor said as much," the young sorcerer said. "She killed Hilgrun and badly wounded Zentam."

"She what?" Chassari spat, coming to her feet. "Where is that bitch?"

"I wish I knew," Thurguz grumbled. "Last time I saw her, she was flying due south, a screaming shadow in the wind."

"And you didn't think of, oh I don't know, blasssting her out of the sssky?" Chassari snapped.

"No, I didn't," Thurguz growled back, baring his fangs. "I had other concerns, for example a gravely wounded student. And despite my best efforts, she died in my arms." His eyes glared angrily. "Tearing down the wall Celeste hid Hilgrun behind took too long." He took a deep breath. "Idunn and Elara are trying to keep Zentam alive. Poor dwarf was blasted into the stairwell, took out a good chunk of the second story banister on his way down and finally came to a stop in the Entrance Hall."

"That's why there was a piece missing on the way up," Lishaka muttered. "Will he make it?" She tugged at her robe. Rhys remembered that Zentam had sold it to her before the raid on Carver's Raighbaern two lifetimes ago.

"Only the gods know," Thurguz muttered. "But between a skilled druid like Elara and Idunn with her golem building expertise..." His voice trailed off.

"He was merely a guest under my roof!" Angrily, Thurguz slapped the table top. The wine glasses and bottle swayed dangerously.

"You might want to elaborate a bit," Chassari said, sitting down again and plucking a filled glass off the table. "People don't run around murdering each other without reason."

"I've only noticed bits and pieces," Thurguz said, hanging his head. "I've been neck-deep in reports and books about the Dragon Stones. I do remember that Elara and Celeste have been at each other's throats pretty often though."

"And what has Hilgrun to do with that?" Chassari asked. A moment later, the realization dawned. "Oh. Celeste must have badly insulted the Elf Princesss for Hilgrun to get involved. But ssstill..."

Hopefully it wasn't because of me, Rhys thought. He vividly remembered the last morning before his departure, how he and Celeste had pleasured each other before Elara had descended on them like a overprotective mother hen. "Things escalated that badly?" he asked.

"They sure did," Thurguz said, indicating the missing door. At that moment, Idunn stumbled into the room. She barely made it to the sofa Chassari had claimed before she collapsed. The dwarven sorceress looked even more disheveled than Thurguz, with her robe spattered with all kinds of liquids. Blood was there in horrifying quantities but others which looked to Rhys like oil and gray mud were there as well.

Wordlessly, Thurguz refilled his wine glass and gingerly let her drink from it. The liquid seemed to invigorate the exhausted dwarf, at least enough to gather herself. She sighed and sank into the cushions. "I think he'll survive," she rasped before draining the glass in one long gulp. "Most stubborn bastard this side of a bloody mountain."

"Why?" Rhys asked.

Idunn held her arm out for a refill. Her hand trembled.

"The last time you looked this bad was when you brought Moril back," Thurguz said, refilling the glass.

"No matter what I did, he refused to go unconscious. I tried drugs. I tried spells -- he simply stayed awake. Muttered one thing over and over."

"What was it?" Lishaka asked, on the edge of her seat.

"'Celeste' and 'tits.' Gods know why." Idunn took another gulp from her glass. "And he scratched at the table an awful lot, despite all the pain medicine I had given him." She made a gesture on the table, thumb and fingers closing in on each other until they made a fist.

Borna shook her head. "That's not scratching, that's grasping. I should know." She raised her hand and clawed at the air. The gesture lacked its usual threat since her talons hadn't regrown yet.

Haloryth wrinkled her forehead. "Grasping? That reminds me of the Hoarder."

"What's the Hoarder?" Rhys asked aloud. Idunn's head shot up and she looked at him as if she'd seen a ghost. "What did you just say?" she asked. To Rhys' amazement, she seemed to grow even paler than before.

"Haloryth - the ancient elven spirit haunting my ring -- said the gesture you just made reminded her of the Hoarder."

Idunn cursed, a long, harsh dwarven word which even to those not able to speak the language sounded nasty. "There are three deities in the Dwarven pantheon," she explained. "The Forgefather, the Hearthmother and the Hoarder." Her voice trailed off. "And some scholars, especially those who know both the human and dwarven gods, that the Hoarder may be an aspect of Desire. Or they are one and the same."

"Going by my dreams, that's a distinct possibility," Rhys muttered. "So what you're saying is..."

An icy pit of terror opened up inside his stomach. He dropped his glass and shot to his feet. "I'll be right back!" Then he fled from the room as fast as his mangled leg would let him.

* * * *

While limping towards his room, his thoughts raced. Finding reasons why Celeste could have pledged herself to Desire was easy enough. Frustration and anger were a powerful, dangerous mixture. Feeling utterly helpless after her ordeal at Faedal's hands, being confined to the tower and having nothing to do but froth in impotent anger -- Rhys could empathize. But how did Desire manage to make contact?

Rhys skidded to a halt in front of his chambers and pushed the door open. The room smelled as always, the hint of soap Sen used when swabbing the floors, mixed with the particular oil used to fill the lamps. Even the desk was as cluttered and chaotic as he had left it. He yanked the drawers open.

They were empty. He was positive there had been an obsidian idol of Desire in one of the drawers. Just to be safe, he checked the contents of his nightstand. There was the scroll full of naughty pictures Celeste had given him, along with some cream and the simple leather band with an amulet of Mercy dangling from it.

It's gone!

"Rhys."

He shot upright, guilt burning hot on his cheeks. There was only Haloryth though. He exhaled and tried to calm himself.

The elven spirit looked at him calmly. As usual, she wore the guise of a young elven girl with silver hair, clad in a golden dress. "I thought you'd like to know that some very potent magic had been cast here and not too long ago."

Rhys forced his breathing to become calm and steady then he invoked his magic-sensing ability. "I don't see anything out of the ordinary."

Haloryth raised a finger. "Look up."

His gaze followed her pointing digit. And then he saw it. Two scorch marks blighted his ceiling.

"I'm pretty sure they weren't here when I left," he mused. "Wait. You're saying-"

"I'm at least entertaining the idea that this Celeste person everyone is talking about did this. Here on the Ethereal plane, you can still feel the ripples of the magic which had been cast. I can sense three powerful spells and one of them outshines the rest. I've always wanted to meet a deity but seeing the remnants of this one spell makes me reconsider that thought."

"Normally, no kind of magic should leave permanent damage inside a student's quarters. Watch." Rhys pointed his palm at the wall above the fireplace and launched a small Fireball. The spell dutifully shot forth and detonated against the wall. No scorch mark, no heat.