36th Day of Ash, 122nd Year of the Age of Steel
Masagh emerged from the well entrance tunnel still dripping but ignoring the cold chill. Clambering out into the compound tunnels he found Sabrione and the others gathered there, ringing out their tunics. She caught sight of him and frowned.
“Masagh no dice on that poetry place, I think he was screwing with us-“ She saw something in his face and stopped speaking. “What?” She said. The others were all looking at him, seeing the blood on his face no doubt.
“He lied to us.” Masagh said breathlessly, he had ran all the way home. “Temishi was at the mansion with more killers. He’s the one in charge, not her.” Sabrione didn’t respond. She only stared at him for the briefest heartbeat, then she was tearing off down the tunnel. The rest of the knights sprinted after her, Masagh bringing up the rear.
The dungeon was modest compared to what one would think, with only a handful of cells. The Creth were not known to keep prisoners long. Sabrione and the others drew up outside the cell and found it empty. The door was closed and the lock unpicked. Alsariph left nothing behind to give hint as to how he had escaped.
“Sound the alarm, search the compound.” Sabrione barked. Cleon, Riah, and Calliope ran out of the dungeon. Masagh stayed, eyeing his sister and catching his breath.
“What happened to you?” She asked, her voice low and soft. She still stared into the empty cell.
“I went there. Temishi was there with two who dressed like mercenaries.” Masagh recounted. “Some servant in the yard snuck up on me and alerted them to my presence while I was shifted. Temishi sent more spirits after me.” Masagh grimaced. “I killed them and escaped, but…” He trailed off.
“I think Alsariph is the mastermind behind this, Temishi and the other two called him the boss.” Masagh finished, shooting a searching look at Sabrione. “Did you find anything?”
She shook her head. “Nothing at all. We need to find out where they are.” She looked up at Masagh and her eyes flickered to the cardinal rune on his forehead and then back down to his eyes. “Come on, I have an idea.” She was off, running towards the Grand Hall. Masagh followed her.
“Get me a platter, something shiny.” She barked at anyone close enough to obey. Cleon and Emerande were there, both looking worried.
“Sabrione, Cleon has just informed me that the prisoner has escaped since we last spoke to him. I will fetch my scrying crystal.” Emerande said, fuming with rage. Power crackled from her and all the runes across her body, her soul totems, and her various magic items radiated danger.
“No need, mother.” Sabrione said evenly, snatching the ornate silver splatter from Masagh’s outstretched hands. She had adopted the calm, focused tone she always did when she had a plan. Sabrione tapped the platter and her Traversion rune gleamed with the evocation. The platter shimmered. She drew her ghoulish claw down the length of it, tearing open a window into their own reality whose edges blurred with the slipspace. It was a powerful magic of traversing Masagh rarely saw her use.
They all gathered around and peered into the window. Alsariph stood below them on a familiar street with Temishi. Arrayed around them were no less than nine men and women garbed for war. It looked as though Alsariph Aistmar was giving orders. His face had a colder, more focused look than Masagh had ever seen there.
“That’s the warehouse.” Riah said.
“Yes, and it looks like our bumbling friend has got some muscle with him.” Sabrione said, glancing up at Emerande and waving the portal closed. Her Traversion rune dimmed and they all looked at Emerande.
“Prepared yourselves, we will attack momentarily.” Emerande said, eyes blazing and mouth contorted in a frown of disgust. She reached up and pulled from within her robe a metallic disc covered in runes and with a gem in the center. The room grew colder as Emerande tapped into her impossibly deep well of aether and evoked the power word of the artifact.
Mist swirled up from the ground next to her, the same glowing color as her pale soul totems. It solidified into the form of a woman in ancient battle dress. Her cruel eyes surveyed the room and her unnaturally long, claylike fingers twitched. An ethereal voice rang out in the chamber, a whisper in every person’s ear.
‘Whom am I to maim?” The ghost asked, dark anticipation thick in her words.
“Follow my daughter and her warriors, kill those they go to fight.” Emerande ordered. Then her blazing golden gaze shifted to Sabrione. “Weaponmaster, open a portal to that warehouse and do your worst. No redvein upstart will encroach on the domain of the grave born.” Her words thundered through the room, latent aether making the command reverberate.
Masagh felt the ichor in him burn, pulsing through his veins. His focus sharpened and his fingers twitched towards the hilt of his blade. He drew the blade, the others doing the same. Sabrione was smirking, anticipating the battle rush. She stepped away from the table they huddled around and drew her own blade.
“Knights, with me.” She said. The rune gleam burned again, but this time she tore an opening in reality big enough for them all to fit through. They rushed as one into the slipspace, Emerande’s personal ghost assassin with them. Masagh had never in his two hundred years seen the thing fight. It was an ancient servant bound with strong necromancy to do his mother’s bidding. Now it floated along behind them, dark eyes glinting with a feral hunger.
Then there was another tear, this time opening onto the darkened street. They poured out into reality with their weapons raised. The scene before them was much the same as what they had seen in the scrying. Alsariph in his embroidered coat stood with Temishi in her sailor’s garb. The men at arms they had assembled seemed to be attempting to enter the burnt husk of the warehouse, no doubt to salvage any of the cargo they could find. At the sight of the ghouls and ghost materializing through thin air they abandoned the attempt and began to form up around their leaders.
