Primordial Unleashed: Epic Progression Fantasy

"Are you corpus mentis?" she asked. The wind outside picked up, rattling the stretched leather walls. "Sound of mind? Feeling well?"

"I am." Skippii drank from the flask which Cliae proffered. "We can talk."

Kylinissa took a sharp intake of breath and stared at Tenoris sharply, but the big legionnaire did not budge.

"Do you desire something of me, your reverence?" Tenoris said.

"I only desire that you do not intervene, or impede my duties," Kylinissa responded cooly.

"I shan't impede." Tenoris licked his lips nervously. "While you mean him no harm."

"What you perceive as harm may be necessary for me to divine my answers," the arcanus said. "Interfere at all, and you shall suffer for insubordination."

"The Gods…" Tenoris breathed heavily, for once lost for words. "Divine grace smiles upon him. I know this in my heart. No priest can tell me otherwise."

"We shall see," she said sternly.

"I am telling you," his voice wavered.

"Step aside, legionnaire."

"No."

Kylinissa's lip curled. "I have come to exercise the will of the Senior Primus, Praegesta Summitus, the man whom you swore an oath to. Have you forgotten?"

"My oaths bind me to the legion," Tenoris rumbled. "And here lies a hero of us all. I stand before you, breathing, thanks to his bravery and strength. Perhaps, so do you, and many more of the Second Cohort. You know as well as I that those Ürkün would have fought us, killed us, startled as they were by the Coven's storm. Those magi–who from their lofty perch–struck to antagonise a weak-hearted foe, riling them into rage. They endangered us all, if not for Skip."

"The Coven-"

"So do not temper me," Tenoris raised his voice. "Do not recount oaths the likes of which you have never taken yourself, nor understand the brevity."

"My oaths are my own," Kylinissa said coldly. "And, I am sorry to inform you that, should our oaths collide, it is I who wields the greater sword of duty than you, legio, as my orders today come from Praegesta himself, who witnessed as well as you and I, the… odd events of today. He needs answers. I get answers. Be glad that it is only I who has come, and not the Coven of Kylin, whom I can assure you would regard the health of Skippii and the sanctity of his mind with much less regard."

"The Coven shan't take a step within this tent," Tenoris growled. "Not while our companeight is outside."

Kylinissa's eyes turned grave. "Oh, but they would, had I not convinced them it was my duty, and that I was worthy of the initial divination. They are at the gates, praying to pick this legionnaire apart. They will not question as I do, nor search for answers. They will execute their divine will, and slay him–a heretic by name, if not by nature. They will offer his soul up to Kylin, by beheading and dismemberment or trial of combat. It will happen quickly. It will happen discretely, but for my intervention. You should raise a fanfare at my attendance, for I alone acted in his favour, for mercy. Whereas the Coven…"

Kylinissa shook her head lightly. "The Twelve swore no oaths to protect legionnaires. Their only duty lies with their Goddess, and in cleansing the air of heretic incursion. They care not for his life, nor yours. They would wield a heavy hand."

A silence befell them. Tenoris' knuckles paled as he gripped the bedframe, lips pressed shut, eyes bulging for the pressure held within his breath.

Skippii shut his eyes, savouring the moment, feeling it soak into him, knowing it might be his last.

"I will answer," he said. "I will obey. I have nothing to hide, or fear. Do as you must."

"When did you first detect this magia?" Kylinissa asked quickly. "Was it before or after your encounter with the enemy magus?"

"Before," Skippii said. "Long before. All my life, I think. But, I wasn't aware of them until then."

The arcanus scowled, but did not break eye contact.

"I know what you're thinking," Skippii sighed. "And I thought it too. I wondered if I had been poisoned by their black magia, and thought to kill myself, if it was revealed to me that that… was the truth." It was the first time Skippii had admitted his morbid resolve in such plain terms. Suddenly he felt very weak and foolish.

"No," Cliae murmured, then shot a fearful glance at the arcanus. "I'm sorry, but even if… No."

Tenoris hummed knowingly, but did not say a word.

"I have since investigated this power with an open mind," he continued. "I was willing to accept any fate. But, I no longer fear it. I am certain that I am under no such mental bounds; no such poisoning. This power is mine. Mine alone. No Gods speak to me; not of the Pantheon nor heretic."

"It was yours before you joined the legion?" Kylinissa said without pause.

"It seems so, yes." A flicker of hope occurred to him then. "Could it be of divine origin? Do sometimes the Gods not speak to their subjects."

"Often," she said. "But never, do their subjects neglect their prayers. If you have never beseeched a God, you should not be able to wield their power. But that is why I am here, isn't it? To discern all of this. You should have come to me sooner."

"I…" Was afraid. Skippii's lips fell softly on the words unspoken. He swallowed and bowed his head.

"It comes from the earth," he continued. "I draw it. Not with prayer, but with a command. I don't beseech Siesmorix, or Erymenes, or any of the Pantheon. Is that…" he faltered. "How does it work for the enemy?"

"Much the same as us," Kylinissa said. "The magia of their heresy is a curse from their masters. However, their dark lords are more pervasive. More… eager, it seems. And more prevalent in their minds. One heretic may command power alone. Whereas the Gods of the Pantheon require… more convincing. Collective prayer. In that way, as with others, you are a peculiar case, legionnaire."

Shutting his eyes, a fist squeezed his heart. So there were similarities after all between him and the enemy. But there was more to it than that. "I don't have all the answers. I'm astray. But my heart is true. And I hear no voices. No dark Gods."

"If your magia is not of our Gods…" Kylinissa mused.

"There are other magias in the world," Cliae said delicately. "Forces of nature. Spirits. Alchemy."

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"Heresy," Kylinissa said, but there was no sting in her voice. "And heroism, as it has been known."

"Transcendents," Cliae whispered. "Legends."

"Alas, I am no historian or philosopher." Kylinissa procured a handful of herbs from a pouch and rubbed them in her hands over Skippii's sternum. "What I am, is an arcanus, and I have my ways. Lie down," she commanded. "Slave, bring those candles close. Legionnaire, step back please."

When Tenoris didn't budge, Skippii patted his hand which gripped the bed frame. "It's alright. Let her work."

Kylinissa hummed a single pleasant pitch. She blew into her hands and waved them over his body. His skin tingled in their wake. At first, Skippii was sure she had sprinkled ritual herbs over his flesh, but her hands were empty. Whatever had touched him was not physical in form. The tingling sharpened to a prickle. At places, such as his pelvis and heart, she stopped and closed her eyes, chanting in a low voice. He remained still, unclenching his muscles as the abrasions passed over him. But as her hands travelled down his legs towards his feet, the discomfort grew. Pausing with her hands over his soles, she scowled, and the chanting came more precise and forceful. Skippii flinched and curled his toes. It felt as though a coarse brush was being scratched over his skin.

Gradually, her tune formed syllables, becoming a chant. Skippii's eyelids grew heavy, and though he tried, they closed. The draw of fatigue tugged at him, and he slipped in and out of a dream-like state. At times, her chanting softened, and he re-awoke to see her standing above him. Ever, her hands balanced above his flesh, standing his hairs on end. But as his consciousness slipped once more, he felt himself falling towards a silver light.

"Hespera," Kylinissa whispered. The light shimmered with her voice, and grew. Suddenly, Skippii had no perception of his body–not the pains of his wounds nor how he was righted. Simply, he floated as the silver light grew.

Hespera. Hespera.

A voice shimmered in the silver light. Not his own.

Seek this soul. Reveal with light.

Contours formed in the shimmering light. A face. A woman's face, smooth and pale. Her eyes were many magnitudes distant. But as Hespera's name was spoken, they turned slowly–as the moon travels the sky–to come upon him.

The light shone brighter, and Skippii's mind was revealed. Unconscious no more, his thoughts flooded in. Gone was the realm of mortals. All was a brilliant pearlescent shine, and the hot terror it wrought. The edges of Hespera's gaze regarded him, blinding him. Power beyond his reckoning washed over him. The power of a being beyond time–master of the realm.

He screamed, but no sound was admitted. He struggled, but possessed no limbs with which to break free. Gone were the components of his mortal body. All that remained was his soul, raw and yielded.

A stain creased the silver light. A scowl. Displeasure.

Then the blinding light dimmed. Skippii shook with terror, but felt the air in his lungs. With a breath, he drew upon his power–but little came. A sliver of heat from the distant earth. Here, in the space beyond clouds, his magia held little sway.

And still, her Luminescence dimmed. But it was for no effort of his own. A hand fell softly upon his shoulder–the touch of snow. Skippii tried to turn, and once again, felt the weight of his limbs. Wiggling his toes, he clenched his fists and forced his limbs to awaken from sleep.

His eyes snapped open. He was still in the physician's tent, with Kylinissa above him, Cliae and Tenoris at his side. Afraid to move–afraid to fall once more into that blinding light–he gripped the cot's frame and forced his breathing to steady.

Kylinissa's expression was neutral. Did she know what he had just witnessed? Had she intended to burn away his soul? For all she had reassured him of being an impartial ally, he was sure that, had he spent a few more moments before Hespera's unfiltered gaze, his soul would have burned away, leaving a husk of a body behind.

But the light of the tent was soft. His limbs warmed to his presence, and flexed awake. Someone had come to his aid–the maiden of snow. Who was she? Beyond reason, he knew that she was no force of heresy. However, neither did she feel like the source of his power. A guiding spirit then, perhaps? An ancestor. Or a God?

Something nipped him. Kylinissa's palms scraped an ethereal brush over his thighs, rubbing up towards his groin. He whimpered uncomfortably, then hid it with a cough, but the arcanus pressed on, drawing the sensation into his gut where it gurgled his stomach, and up through his chest and throat. There, they hovered. Her chanting grew louder, and Skippii became short of breath. Tiny teeth gnawed at his throat.

Clenching his body, he shivered, shaking off the needles, and raised a hand to deter hers. But she did not relent. Forcefully, she pressed on. One hand shot to his forehead, the other to his pelvis, and her chanting rose in pitch and fervour. Two spikes struck him, seeking to pierce him to the ground beneath his cot. Skippii yelped, and a flush of fire washed through his veins.

Kylinissa's hands shot away from the hearth. Rubbing her palms, she stared, perplexed, for a long time. They all shared the silence.

"Your education merits you, slave," she said. "For this is no power of the Pantheon, but nor does it reek of heresy."

"What was that?" Skippii said. "The needles, the feeling?"

"Needles, you say?" Kylinissa's eyebrows furrowed. "That is interesting. All who come under the presence of Hespera's rays report it differently. For many, it is pleasant. For the heretic, excruciating. And for you… needles?"

"Not painful," he said quickly. "Not until the very end."

"I must admit, I probed deeply," she said swiftly. "The pain is merely an effect, it was not the tool which I meant to wield. Come now, legio. Cheer up. This is good news."

Tenoris stood stiffly by Skippii's side. "You believe us now."

"I was never in disbelief," she said. "It is my duty to admit not knowing, and then to learn."

"What have you learned?" Skippii said. "What is this thing?"

Kylinissa licked her lips as she averted her gaze towards the flickering candlelight. "The very fact that you are still alive teaches me a lot. I ascended your soul to Hespera. Nothing escapes her gaze. Were you a heretic, you would be dead."

Skippii shivered, but kept his mouth shut. He did not want to reveal the unpleasantness of the ritual while arcanus' divination favoured his fate.

"I sensed no evil, not as I have been taught to detect," she said. "However, I must admit, there is a depth to your essence which I could not penetrate. It is like nothing I've felt before. Something… deep."

A finger flickered out as though to probe his flesh, but she held her back. Their eyes locked. A silver blue shone within them.

"There is something at play inside of you…" she said. "Within you, or rather, of you itself. Communion with the Gods leaves its mark on our bodies. When you fought the heretic magus, I told you to wash yourselves, remember? That is because its essence clings to our mortal flesh. It attracts the fates–good or evil–which must be cautioned or dispelled. Many times after battle, a whole legion will possess this thin essence, as the Gods have witnessed their valiant deeds, and for a moment, they are tied by the thinnest of silken threads.

"Such a thread is within you, but it is faint. I sensed it when I oracled you some nights ago, and I sense it now, though it has grown somewhat. One, or more of the Gods is paying close attention to you Skippii. But as you say, you are unbound through ceremony. The silken thread has not tied a knot. You are not astral. You do not wield the Pantheon's power."

Skippii swallowed hard, afraid to take his eyes of Kylinissa for what otherworldly presences he might see watching him from the shadows of the torchlight.

"I would predict that your valiant deeds against the heretic have not gone unnoticed. So that goes in your favour." She smiled thinly, eyes drifting over his body. "As for your magia, I detect it everywhere. It is strongest in your sternum, but it flows throughout your body. I moved it with my hands. I have never done that before. It is a shame that it causes you such discomfort, because I would have liked to have spent more time examining you." Her eyes flickered to his. "Examining it."

Blushing, he sat upright, pulling the blankets over himself. But before he could stop himself, a nervous voice was speaking from his lips.

"I may be open to such examinations, if you think it would help." He swallowed dryly, reigning a foolish enthusiasm. "But now is not a great time. My mind is drifting. I must admit, I need more rest."

"That much is true," Kylinissa said gravely. "Tomorrow, you have been summoned by the Imperator. The Coven shall be attending too."

His heart dropped. He'd possessed a slim hope that the inquisition would end with Kylinissa's assessment. However, there was no escaping the summons of Legion IX's supreme commander, nor his mystic agents. Kylinissa had been merciful, but the Twelve would not be.

"I shall inform them of what I have learned," Kylinissa said, more softly than he had ever heard her speak. "It may ease their temper. In the end, however, it will be the Imperator's decision what to do with you. But do not worry. He is a just man. Now, if you would like, I shall perform an invocation on you. You see, our blood flows like waves. Maricorus controls all tides–even the ebb and flow of wakefulness and sleep. I will bring the tide in now, and you shall sleep peacefully."

"Will it work?" he said tiredly. "Even though…"

"Even though you are astray?" she smiled. "Or because of your magia? It will work, unless you possess the strength to reject it. Then, I might be worried."

Skippii nodded, laying back in his cot. As Kylinissa passed her hands over his face, he felt a peace which he had not in years. Waves washed away his nerves, and sleep overtook him.