The Column of Ash [Epic Fantasy]

Out beyond the walls, people, smell of smoke, and tempting scent of blood, were trees. Many trees. Good for cover and stealth. For the hunt. For predators like Protis. Forests like that of the western hills back by the dead city when Daecinus almost died facing Emalia's Spirits. A difficult day. Thick underbrush, glens, marshes, distant fields of grain to the south and east, and wilderness everywhere else. There were other Dead here, too. Simple ones. Shells, as Daecinus called them. They roamed, silent and seeking. Oblivious. Protis could sneak upon them, but they would not notice. Animals, at least, were skittish when disturbed.

Ten days and ten nights of this.

Sometimes, when Protis climbed upon a rocky outcropping and looked down toward the den of humanity called Novakrayu, bright and busy even as a distant dot, tormenting thoughts and guilt struck the hunter. It thought of Emalia and Sovina. The two humans were weak, vulnerable, and among enemies abound. Protis had watched for some time, stalking in the night to the nests of those whom it suspected, watching them sleep. Wracen and the priests. But they were planning nothing. Then Taraz, the one called the Black Han, in the palace that once belonged to Elizar. The man made slave of the invaders. A more fitting role for such a weak creature. But no invaders seemed to be plotting either. Protis did not know what to believe. Always on guard. Always searching.

But after many days of this, it could do no more. It had to leave. And so it did.

Ten days and ten nights had passed since it left Novakrayu, no longer sneaking in to watch over Emalia and Sovina. It hungered for something out in the wilderness. Something unattainable in the thicket of civilization. Somewhere it was not a watcher but a hunter.

It feasted on creatures of the woods. Deer were the easiest but least rewarding. Wolves in the forests, large cats in the rocky hills closer to the mountains, and bears wherever Protis could find them. They bore the most sustenance of any animal. But there were also men in these lands. Wildmen who wore rags and hunted with carved weapons. Some were thieves and marauders and others just tribespeople or madmen. Protis wanted to hunt them all. But these were not Daecinus's instructions. None of this was. In the beginning, he had taught the Soulborne important things. One was what to kill and what to protect. So Protis watched these people until it could decide if they were proper quarry or not, and either moved on or hunted.

Humans tasted best. They nourished something deep inside. A craving untouched by the flesh and Souls of animals.

Yet Protis resisted the urge to devour all. It thought of Daecinus. For even in abandoning its protection of Emalia, it had to remain loyal.

On the tenth night, it was raining, and the ground was thick with mud. Stormclouds hid the stars. All was black with shadow. Protis saw everything well enough anyway. There were men hiding on the roads in old rags, bearing weapons. They were waiting for something or someone. Protis watched them from high in a tree, invisible to any who might look. But few looked up so high. They were bandits, Protis was sure. Yet death depended on more than an estimation. It had to be certain. And so Protis watched and waited for them to do as evil men did.

It was not long.

On a winding road into the mountains leading from the lower plains of civilization came a covered wagon pulled by two oxen with a driver and two guards. They did not see the bandits. Protis perched on the edge of the thick branches and watched, shed of its noisy armor and axe. Its human-made implements unsuited for the task of a creature of the wild, somehow. It watched them until they pulled free weapons and went to attack. Their evil confirmed. And then Protis struck. Coming down like a bird of prey. Striking the closest, crushing him beneath its weight. Upon the second with sharp teeth before the bandit could turn. Throat torn open, blood pouring out, a scream cut short. The others fell shortly after, their deaths so sudden no noise carried out beyond the falling rain. Protis ate as the wagon carried on, feasting, devouring, satiating something deep inside that seemed to grow with each morsel.

But this is not why Protis was here. Something else called upon the creature.

It left the bodies after a while and followed some intuition.

The wagon.

Protis pursued, urged on by some spark of intelligence that connected things it could not see. A thing that was more than an urge. It was not long until the wagon was in sight again. This time, details emerged that added to a context previously ignored. Humans did not travel at night due to their poor vision and dangers from creatures of all manner. There was also nowhere in the mountains that a wagon should go. The road was an old and ruined dirt path eaten by weeds and erosion, and so the journey was difficult. All these details put to mind the curiosity of banditry as well, for unless the dead men knew of it, then why would they lie in wait for something unlikely to come?

Protis attacked when their guard was down, capturing the driver and breaking his leg, leaving him in the trees. The guards went in pursuit, but Protis had moved on. It came back to the wagon and peered inside. There were three more men lying in wait. They attacked with the aim of surprise, but Protis had seen them already, moved aside, and then killed them. Claws through iron mail and helms. By then, the other two guards emerged from the trees with the driver and saw Protis standing there, blood-covered and fearsome. They froze.

"What is this?" the Soulborne asked.

They did not answer.

Protis pulled off a sheet covering the object inside, revealing it. It smelled rotten and old like a corpse pulled from its grave. Just like the Artifact found in the voivode's chamber. Two polished bronze pieces, supported by careful bracing, that could together make a whole ring a man's height in diameter.

Memories assaulted the Soulborne at the sight of them. Senses of all kinds. A terrible pain that cut to its core and spread outward like wildfire. His sister dying before him. All lost. Daecinus's mind, once again.

"What is this?" Protis demanded once more.

The men made to run.

The Soulborne gave chase. Emotion carried its actions. That foreign impulse that felt both internal and externally driven brought its claws into their fleshy openings and killed them long before they could hope to escape. All that was left was the driver, crippled and fearful, screaming.

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"Give me answers," Protis hissed, rain washing the blood and gore from its form as it stood over the shaking man abandoned by the others on the road. "You will die horribly if you withhold."

"I…I…I've b-been loyal! I swear it! Please!"

"Enough. Answers!"

"Answers? Well. I… I don't kn-know," he mumbled, eyes shut tight, teeth clattering, face stained with red blood of his companions, cut with tears, dissipating with rain. "W-we aren't, uh, told anything! I… I swear! You'll never hear me say a thing!"

"Speak! What is this for?"

"I don't know! I swear it!"

Protis leaned down until the man's face was but inches from its own. "I smell her here. Why!"

"Her? Gods, you're not hers, are you? Fuck me. Oh… f-fucking…"

"Where are you taking it!"

"I'll tell you! West! West! To the site! We were t-taking it there!"

"The site."

"Yes!" He opened his eyes a crack, yelped a strangled cry, and pulled away, pressing himself into the muddy ground. "Constructing it, you see! Please!"

"Constructing what?"

"I don't know! There are more rings. New stone! Uh, uh, bones! It's Sorcery! For her!" Before Protis could press further, the man let out a whimper and nodded quickly. "I know! Her! Uh… Uh… The, ah, Sorcerer. She's like the man in Novakrayu! You know of him right? Everyone does… He attacked and… He's like her. Ah, she's like, uh, him!"

Protis grabbed him by the throat and lifted him. "What is her name?"

"We weren't told that."

Memories of her dying. "Red eyes. White hair. Grey skin. Tall."

"Yes! That's her! She's there, in charge of it! I swear it! But she's stopping, I think. Coming back east, they say! In time… Ah, soon! Is that what you want to know?" He gasped, unable to breathe. "Please!"

Protis dropped the man before it submitted to its urges and ate him. "What is it for?"

"I don't know Sorcery, I swear to you!" He scrambled back, tried to stand, then collapsed with a cry. "I don't know any of that."

"Where is it?"

"Far west! Far! In the Dead Lands. You know them, right? Hazek's Fields?"

"Pethya," Protis whispered.

"Oh! Right! Gods, you're right, I'm sorry…" He pulled himself up to his hands and knees. "Can I go? Please? Can I leave?"

Protis walked away from the man and the wagon and disappeared into the night. It sought out its armor and axe and left the wilderness to make for Novakrayu once again. Rain splattering its form clean, thoughts of Souls left unconsumed absent from its mind. The predator was quiet again. All was churning. Twisted and lost. Memories and impulses mixing with the present. Nothing was stationary and all was fluid in the intestines of the mind.

It was daybreak by the time Protis saw the walls again.

Ten days. Eleven nights.

…

"Em," Sovina whispered, breaking the still darkness of slumber, "wake up. Someone is here."

She sat up and blinked the hazy dreariness from her eyes, squinting about the dimly lit room. They were still housed in the palace in one of the many chambers meant for boyars, dignitaries, and whatever other important guests might come.

Emalia sat up. "Someone is here? Where?"

Sovina lurched from the bed with her saber in hand, facing the door, wearing only a thin linen tunic meant for sleep. Her lithe, athletic figure was scarcely covered, more so just pronounced. Emalia's eyes flicked to the door as she scrambled up herself, heart racing, hands shaking.

And then a voice, gutteral and scratchy. "It is Protis."

Sovina relaxed as Emalia slumped back against the wall, shaking her head.

"One moment," she called out, sighing and fetching her robe as Sovina threw on her gambeson, a pair of breeches, and opened the window shutter to reveal the warming light of morning. Clouds parting overhead with a subsiding drizzle that would muddy the streets. It might even affect the turnout of her preaching later that day. Hopefully not. She fixed up her robe, securing it with a small brooch. Dressing for a Soulborne. A creature typically naked except for armor, Emalia thought, chuckling at the irony.

"Where have you been?" Sovina asked, some tension still in her voice as she opened the door.

Protis loomed there in the hall, inches away from the doorframe. It was wet, muddy, and had a few red stains on its pale flesh. "Hunting," it replied.

"Hunting." Her frown could cut. "You left your post here to hunt?"

"Protis didn't need to stand around for weeks needlessly," Emalia said from the side. "I, for one, am glad they decided to make good use of their time. And look at you, Protis, you've grown. Come in, please." Indeed, the Soulborne had gained a few inches in height, likely fed by whatever Souls it feasted on out in the wilderness. She figured the environment might be good for their independent development as long as it was balanced out by civilization's taming hand. She'd talked long with Daecinus about such things back when they were all together.

Sovina sighed at the muddy tracks inside their room but shut the door behind Protis anyway, then leaned toward her with a knit brow and whispered, "It, Em. Not they."

"Don't be mean."

"I'm not. The difference is important."

Emalia frowned past her to Protis. "You've come here to tell us something, haven't you?"

"Maecia," it replied, blank expression shifting slightly toward concern. "She knows Daecinus has returned. She is somewhere west in Pethya. Hazek's Field. Leading a construction of Sorcery using metal rings. Bronze. Tall as a human." The Soulborne concentrated for a moment, brow furrowing in deep thought. Then its eyes widened in a very human look of surprise. "Seen it before in visions. Memories. Daecinus's."

"Maecia… Oh my. But that means… Oh, it's The Grand Observatory!" Emalia all but shouted, lurching forward. "That's it, isn't it?"

Protis grunted. "Where they were attacked."

"But why would she be rebuilding that?" Sovina asked. "Is she trying to bring someone back?"

Emalia frowned and shook her head. "No, it's something else. Daecinus never said much about her, but I believe she doesn't think Sorcery is ethical. Whatever she's doing isn't just for a powerful Artifact. It's something else."

"Maybe she doesn't know Demetria is back and wants to resurrect her for Daecinus?"

"Possibly." Emalia felt unconvinced. If she knows about Daecinus's return, why not hurry to see him? Well, she let him stay in the Rotalaan for decades when she could have saved him. Why? Because she assumed he might use the Crown of the Column for Demetria, thereby accidentally waking the priest we summoned? That all seemed an accurate estimation, but still, she couldn't help but feel there was more to it. Some other component missing, perhaps more than one.

"We need to tell him," she said.

Sovina turned to her. "That means leaving here. Are you okay with that?"

"I must be." She gazed up at Protis, standing still as a stone. "That, or we go take a look for ourselves. See what she is up to before stopping Daecinus's work."

"Maecia will come east," Protis said.

"She will?"

"A man thought so."

"What man?" Sovina asked.

"Driver of wagon."

Emalia tapped her chin, thinking it through. Trying to find the source of the suspicion that chewed away at her. "Well, do you know how long until she might go back to New Petha?"

"Soon. Unclear."

"Hopefully long enough."

Sovina gave her a searching look. "Do you think that's a good idea?"

"We need to find out what she's doing."

"If she's anything like Daecinus, she'll see us coming long before we get close enough. Soulsight, remember."

Emalia smiled. "There are ways around that." Her grin faded as she thought of all the people she was leaving behind, directionless, lost. And, more selfishly, this new passion that fed her very Soul. But it could wait. When it was about such important intrigue, it could certainly wait. Emalia bit her lip and nodded firmly to herself. "Let's make plans to leave. Sovina, can you see to that? I will speak to Wracen. They need to be self-sufficient anyway. We won't be here forever, I suppose." The world was too large to remain in Novakrayu, especially with what Daecinus had planned. But whether that meant following him west in the war, dissuading, or helping, she wasn't sure yet.

Regardless, such concerns could wait. Now, they had a mystery to uncover.