77th Day of Ash, 122th Year of the Age of Steel
The Creth Library was probably one of the more extensive personal collections in the city, although few ever saw it. On the southern edge of the Compound it was one of the more comfortable rooms in the crypt-like home of the Creth. Squat and covered in sconce lanterns and upholstered reading chairs, it housed the histories of the house, atlases, encyclopedias, great works of literature, ledgers, and maps of various regions.
Masagh hadn’t spent as much time here as the Training Ring or the Laboratory, but he had certainly put his time in. Which meant that when we came looking for answers years later it only took him an hour to find what he wanted. The library only had about ten seats, and he sat facing the door at one of the two larger tables with a candle lit beside him. Despite this, Sabrione was still able to approach without his detection.
“A nautical map of the Gelerian coast?” She asked, staring down at the yellowing parchment he had pinned flat to the table with his sword and another book. “Why are you looking at this?” She crossed her arms, staring at him with narrowed eyes.
“Just curious.” He muttered.
“Liar.” Sabrione leaned over it. “No one finds this,” she tapped a finger on the map accusingly. “Because they are just curious. What’s up?”
Masagh shrugged, leaning back and trying to look bemused. “I swam up the coast in that storm. I was just curious about the volcanic rock there.” She was still staring at him disbelieving. “I just wanted to see if there was anything up there worth seeing…”
Frowning, she sighed and stood upright again. “Yea, sure.” Her eyes followed him as he hastily rolled the map back up and slid it home in its leather case. “Mother is calling a meeting about this shadow curse. All sworn need to be there.” Sabrione said.
Masagh nodded as he returned the map to its shelf. “Right, let’s go then.”
“This about that shipwreck?” She tilted her chin up and stared into his face through narrowed eyes. Masagh met her gaze.
“I just told you, I swam up there and thought there might be more to see.”
He sidestepped her and her questions both and set off towards the Grand Hall. When he entered Bonecasters, Maligners, and the other Knights were milling about. Parthena, his sister and the High Maligner, was the only of her order that wore the vibrant disguise of the living. Masagh and Sabrione joined Cleon and the others at the table occupied by the Knights.
Shortly after Emerande emerged from the side tunnel that lead to her private quarters. “Right. Let’s get to it.” She began.
These meetings were rare. Usually Emerande would meet with one order on a less formal basis, or else meet with the most senior of her house and delegate there. Something like this meant there was something significant going on.
There was, of course, no mystery as to what that was. It had been barely two days since he and Sabrione had escorted the goblins back to the sewers and the whole house had learned of the mysterious shadow curse plaguing their city. None had been able to use their Rune magics since, though the Bonecasters reported the necromantic rites still functioned. He turned his gaze to Parthena as his mother began to speak.
One person had been able to get the Runes to work, then. He wondered how she had done it.
“We all know the issues we’ve been having. I’m sure you have all heard by now about Sreeq and the sun curse above.” Emerande began. “Our Cardinal Runes are cut off from their power source…apparently. Shadow creatures stalk the city, hunting anyone who they see.” The Matriarch did not sit, she stood before her chair and looked out at them, back straight and rigid. “What I want to know is what can we do to safeguard our home in this dangerous time.”
There was a pregnant pause in the room. No one spoke. Masagh looked down at the tabletop and rubbed his forehead. There was a bit of flesh hanging off and he ripped it carefully off and tossed it to the floor.
“Mother, during my walk about the Mausoleum grounds last night I thought I’d give my runes a try again.” Parthena had stood. “I was able to give myself an illusion of life, though I can’t seem to change it.”
Emerande’s eyes alighted on her. “Good. While the Bonecasters still have their necromancy and our thralls seem to remain intact, the Maligners and the Knights have lost their magics. While the Knights remain a skilled fighting force, you can hardly trick the world into believing you are not undead without your magic. Parthena, you will have to handle the Mausoleum business personally until we find a way to reactivate the Runes.”
Parthena nodded graciously and sat back down. It would indeed be dire if the Maligners did not have a presence above. They were, perhaps, the most vital link in the ruse of the Mausoleum and the protection of Creth secrecy.
“We should bolster the perimeter defenses.” One Bonecaster said. “We can pull thralls from the menagerie and double the guard at all entrances.” Murmurs of agreement.
“Can we use some of the negation wands we are prepping for the Goblin King to ward our own passages?” A Maligner asked.
“We can’t use what we have promised to another.” Sabrione growled, leaning back in her chair. “We have not broken faith with the Goblin King before, we can’t start now.”
“Agreed.” Emerande said, nodding faintly. “We may need that alliance more than ever in the days to come.” She turned to Cyran. “We can, however, divert some undead to our perimeter. Perhaps a few of the stronger can guard the dock as well?” Cyran nodded in silent assent.
“Undead won’t help agains the shadows.” Masagh said, finally turning his gaze up to the conversation. “They can’t be harmed by physical attacks unless one carries a Moonstone… Or a Dawnstone. Do we have enough to arm every thrall?”
Emerande looked at him. “Do you have a suggestion, son?”
He stood and glanced at Sabrione, who was watching him like she had a toothache. “Why are we discussing defenses?” Turning back to his mother and the room at large, he plunged on. If not now, then when? “The city is in disarray, they are crippled by their loss of runes just as we are here. No shadow has found their way into our Compound…” He stepped away from the table, turning to face the room at large, including all in his statement. “This should be a time for action, not hiding. The sun is hidden, twilight lasts the whole day. You said yourself, Lady Creth, our Bonecasters are still strong, our Knights still carry the blade. We should strike, we should find a target and do damage to the Imperium when we have this chance. Raid their stores, torch their barracks, do something.”
The room was silent. Many had become aware of the friction between Masagh and his mother over the past decades. He knew it, she knew it. The silence grew uncomfortable.
“What, do you imagine, we gain from that?” Emerande asked.
“Anything, dragon shards, information, more thralls, a destabilization of the authority in the city. All of it would be a tangible victory to our cause.”
“And when this curse is lifted and they turn their attention from the shadow creatures to hunting the undead they know are somewhere in the city, what then?” Parthena asked, glowering at him. Age made one comfortable, and besides Emerande none were older or more comfortable than Parthena.
But Masagh was restless. He shrugged theatrically. “Whose to say we aren’t another aspect of this curse?” He turned to Sabrione and grinned. “Maybe we wear black and call ourselves shadows?” She didn’t laugh, but a few of the other knights grinned.
“My point is not that there is no risk, but if we say we want to bring about a new age for the undead-“ He pointed up at the nearest Creth banner, hanging tall and proud in the hall, as he turned back to his mother. “There hasn’t been a better chance to make a move in my lifetime than this, now.”
There was another silence, but this one was softer with the murmurs of Creth. Emerande looked pensive though her gaze burned. “A compelling point, my son. I will think on this. But we would need more information and a more comprehensive goal than just attack if I am to allow it.” Her tone took on an air of exasperation then. “Sabrione, you and your Knights will scout the city. I want to know what they are doing differently, how they are patrolling, where the officials are.”
“Yes, Lady Creth.”
“And if we find some way to gain from all this?” Masagh asked.
Some might call it pushing his luck, Sabrione certainly would. Others might call it insubordination. Regardless, the Creth House spent most of its time hiding at home. Masagh saw no way to change their fortunes while safe within these halls. Perhaps a bit of rashness is what was needed for things to change. Emerande at least seemed to understand what he was doing, though judging by the look she gave him she did not see it the same.
“Then you will strike. But only when I say.” Emerande Creth sat in her chair. “This meeting is over, I need some time to speak with Parthena alone.”
As the meeting broke up and Masagh was still reflecting on the apparent victory Sabrione came over. She grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. “Library now.” She was slim, but Sabrione could move you when she wanted to. He felt her shove his back and he was propelled along. She didn’t stop giving him shoves until they were back in the library.
“Alright, alright. What’s got you so upset?” Masagh said, turning around with his hands up.
She punched him.
“What was that?” Sabrione spat.
“What the-“ Masagh rubbed his jaw, glaring angrily at her.
“You goading mother because what, you are bored?” The Weaponmaster’s face was contorted in anger. “You know when you pull your bullshit you drag me in on it. I won’t let you endanger this family because you feel a bit bored.”
He sighed and experimented moving his jaw around. It clicked. “That’s not what that was.”
“Tell me what it was, then.” She leaned against a shelf of herbalism texts some old Bonecaster had painstakingly collected.
“We’re never going anywhere cooped up in here afraid to pop our heads out, Sabrione!” Masagh hissed. “I know you see that. I was trying to shake them out of this… paranoia.”
“Paranoia?!” She pointed a finger. “We live in a crypt, brother. I know you are young, but our entire people were killed. I’d say it’s justified.”
“I’m not saying it isn’t.” Masagh said.
“What are you saying then, eh?” Sabrione looked genuinely concerned for him now. Her hard eyes were softened by a pained expression he rarely saw on her. “You’re in here looking at maps and bullying mother into… starting a war or something.”
“We deserve better. We deserve the home we say we’ve been trying to build.” He breathed. “I’m saying we should take the risk because we don’t have anything left to lose. You want to sit in this crypt forever or until you go mad and walk into the sunlight?” Masagh asked.
She blinked and her frown deepened.
“This is a real opportunity. The sun’s covered and with it our weakness. The enemy we hide from is robbed of their runes.” He went on, sensing her hesitation. “Yes, so are we. But we are old blood undead, we can regenerate, we can bring thralls. We can, for the first time in our lives Sabrione, finally feel a change for the better.”
She sighed and folded her arms, her gaze drifting down to the floor.
“Wouldn’t it be nice.” He muttered, dragging a hand across his face. The meeting had brought a pulsing to his temples. He felt the cold, hard peeling flesh there and was once again reminded of the line over which so much destruction had been wrought. Long ago a man had been bold enough to seek immortality, and attained it. Now they were all paying that debt. It was his due to bear that burden also. In that moment, though, Masagh told himself he would not bear it as his mother had. He would not sit and wait for fate to deal his hand. The undead do not sit and wait, they take what others are too timid to.
