Lost Souls in Endless Time

[Leareth]

"They are...persistent." The dark robed traveler flitted into another building in the ruins, crossbow out as he waited for the inhabitants to chase him down once again, and kill yet another. Maybe if he killed enough of the...things, he would get some respite. He had slipped out of the city under cover of night, not wanting to try and obtain an exit pass he knew would not be granted. He was a shadow anyway, he would never be missed, and if he was, well, there were things to be done about that too. The first of his would be pursuers rounded the bend, ending his train of thought with suden violence, as the crossbow gave an evil twang, ripping a broadhead bolt through the chest of his opponent, and on into the next one following. It was technically a light crossbow, but light was a relative term, and with a 125 pound draw weight it had more than enough punch to rip through a human body and in all likelihood a third, had one been there for it to shred. Another of his precious broadheads wasted on a target that would not feed him. What a waste. So much blood, and all of it thinking beings, not a drop of it edible by such as he, who had sworn off the blood of thinking creatures. He jokingly called himself a vegetarian, despite the fact that he likely had eaten more animals than most of the living creatures he refused to devour.

Crumbling walls and ceilings gave the room an eerie cast as he let his crossbow drop and dangle from a harness he had long ago rigged up for it, as his daggers came out again, for the third time today. No matter how many of these armorless fiends he killed, it seemed their numbers never lessened. A meaty thump announced the arrival of assistance. Hs familiar was the most durable undead he had ever seen, and when its antlers penetrated the chest of one of these lunatics, the sound was unpleasant to say the least.

He was salivating now, the scent of so much blood was like an addict trying to recover having his drug wafted beneath his nose. He used that saliva well. The crippling venom it contained burned like fire, and he coated his daggers liberally with the deadly substance. Another pair of the creatures, wrapped in so much cloth he still did not know their true race entered the room. Now he was in trouble. The first had a spear, and lashed out wth the wicked blade, plunging it into his chest, where his heart should have been. The sound was like a cleaver hitting frozen meat. Even in this blasted desert his body was like ice, and the strike did little more than cause him some pain and anger. "That was uncalled for. He pulled the spear from his chest, not a single drop of blood coating its tip, and pushed it out of his way, walking forward slowly, until the shocked humans, and at this close range he could scent them, even through his nasal blockage, were directly in front of him.

"Why did you do that? It was utterly uncalled for." He lashed out with his dagger, slitting his throat, and shoving him away, while he turned his other weapon on the second mans gut, ripping it wide open with brutal efficiency. "Such a waste."

The humans seemed to have given up the attack for now, and he riffled through their bodies, searching for anything he could use. He didn't find much. He had no need of food or water, and shelter was moot as well. The short sword one of them carried was tempting, but it wasn't his style... He decided to take it anyway, the steel looked decent, possibly better than decent. It looked like a stolen blade, as he had never seen the particular emblem on its hilt, a sun, wth eight rays spreading out from the center. They had likely murdered the previous owner and taken it for themselves. "Kernos, come. We need to keep looking." The deer shook its head, and the dead body slipped free of his antlers, whch were now dark with blood.

Leareth, unlike many who ventured here, was searching for the ghosts said to inhabit this place. Undead called to undead, and he sought knowledge beyond his scope. Not knowledge of magic, but knowledge of life that had been. He was old, older than any other living being he was aware of, but he had lived his entire unlife in Salvar and the surrounding areas, because no one noticed a cold man in Salvar. But he had come here for knowledge, and that was what he intended to get.

[Leareth]

Leareth and Kernos walked for a time longer, before he found what he wanted. Among the cracked and wasted buildings, he found one more intact than any others. It would suit. It had only one wall damaged, and the roof was more intact than might have been expected. He set Kernos, the large deer that was his constant companion, to guard the front room of the residence, for he discovered it had no less than three rooms upon entering. The first was obviously the main living area. The remnants of a cabinet were visible against the wall, and he took a moment to examine it, curiousity getting the better of him. The stench was wretched. He hadn't realized that something rotted for so long could still reek with such strength. He attempted to shut the cabinet once more, but its age made that impossible, and his attempts wrecked it entirely, leaving the front room reeking of filth and decay, the least pleasant part of his calling.

He moved into a second room, this one most likely a sleeping quarters, and began to prepare. The book chained to his body was a constant weight, the burden of life for an entire species rested with him, and the knowledge contained within this tome was that burden. He opened it as he sat, a mere convenience to form, not truly a necessity. He could stand motionless for days, and barring the need to feed, he would feel no human frailties like cramps or stiffness.

Strange. He mused quietly to himself as he examined the book on his lap. It always leads to the page I require, doesn't it? I would think it had goals of its own. In this case, the page was a spell for summoning spirits lost to a time long past. He was glad he had fed recently, he could see it would be days before the ritual was complete. At his current ability the amount of power he could expend at once was miniscule, and he could only expend so much in an hour, before he became unable to harness the magic, and was forced to rest before continuing with his casting.

The steel knife flashed in his hand, and he nearly cried out at the pain of what was needed. A long sliver of flesh fell from his arm as he pulled it from his body with razor edged steel. The book was explicit. He needed a portion of his own essence to make this function, and lacking the blood a living being might have used, he had to make do with his very flesh. He carved specific runes and shapes into the strip with meticulous detail. With a human they would be drawn in dust and sprinkled in blood, but once again he had to improvise. With a burst of arcane power, the runes began to glow, having been set into their purpose and given names by his magic. He was drained already, the simple act of creating the runes needed to enact ths spell was taxing on his mana, the inner force of his magic.

He cocked his crossbow and loaded yet another of his precious broadheads, preparing for the long wait unyil he could cast once more. With these humans on the loose, he could not help but be careful. He was difficult to destroy, but not impossible, and wounded and weakened as he was, he would be easy game if caught unprepared. He took the time to study the tome a bit, looking more carefully at the descriptions of several spells he had interest in. The power to make a dead body detonate violently was intriguing, as was the mention of bone wariths, spirits that attacked and destroyed whatever target was set to them by their caster, and rarely failed to find their mark. Other of his spells he saw mentioned. Light he saw other notes on, of how its power could be modified and increased, but such a thing was beyond him. The teeth spell he used he saw mentioned again also, of many teeth being summoned to destroy numbers of enemies with a wall of weapons, or to eliminate a single threat with a rapid barrage. There were insinuations that as many as twenty or more might be the limit of the spell, but that was for a caster of great power. Had he been able to sigh, except as a forced action, he would have.

"I am alone, last of a damned race. What humanity would not give for the power I hold, and yet how much they despise me for having it. I do not understand the race to which I once belonged, for I would as gladly trade my lot for a thousand deaths." He was ancient, and alone, out of choice and necessity. It was a wretched existence, subsisting off the blood of animals when such sweet fare tempted him, so easy, nourishing and near at hand, but that path led to madness, and his only hope, his entire races only hope, lay in him, and possibly in what he learned here.

[Leareth]

Hour after hour he repeated the process, casting what power he had into the runes, and carving further etchings into the floor and walls as needed, preparing this place as best he could for the encounter that would follow.

To one such as Leareth, time was immaterial. He had been casting for days when he realized he was nearing the end of his task. All through the time he had had but one distraction. A small carnivore. He had shot it and devoured it greedily, savoring the respite from his waxing hunger. His broadhead had blessedly survived the encounter. With only seven more of the killing bolts remaining to him, he was becoming worried. His pile heads were designed to penetrate armor, not shred flesh, if he had to use them, the results would be less than spectacular.

He studied the tome frantically all during the time he waited, noticing other items contained within that could beuseful to him, but many were beyond his reach, even with the ritual casting he employed now. The "iron golem" especially interested him, but he could see that he would lose all of his power long before he completed the spell if he attempted to do it in stages as he was doing now. "Curse the age and weakness that limits me to this. If I could turn back the ravages of time on my timeless shell I might be better able to complete these castings." It struck him at that moment that perhaps that was exactly what he needed, to turn back his clock, and regain his lost strength and power before attempting tosave his race, but his reverie was interrupted by the sudden silence outside.

All the tie he had been there the windhad never ceased, varying in intensity, it had been a constant companion, now it was gone entirely, in what could only be a bad sign. He searched within himself, and saw that the time was coming. He summoned up what reserves he had, bolstered by his recent meal, and gifted it into his spell. The result was less than dramatic. Light flared along the runes, the power built to a crescendo, andf then abruptly, vanished, as though it had never been.

"Failure again. The dead remain beyond my reach, and their wisdom with them." Leareth... The whisper in his mind was next to silent, but he heard it in any course. I know you Leareth, I know you. The voice became louder, more sure of itself as it spoke, and he could not deny what he heard. Leareth, I know you. Your name is Leareth, and it means...

"Darkness." The single spoken word by the mage cut off the voice within his mind. "I am Darkness, and I live in darknes, searching for a light. But it seems you have me at a disadvantage. Who, and what, are you?"

Leareth. Darkness. Light. All are the same, aspects of but one thing. I am Lux. Your spell has called me from my rest to impart to you the knowledge needed. But, I cannot tell you what is needful for your desires. You must be shown.

"Lux. A quaint conceit, almost much as myself. Very well. Your purpose shall be fulfilled rapidly, and you may return to your rest with my good will and apologies when it is discharged. Very well indeed. If that is to be the case, then Fiat Lux." The names were jokes. On Leareth's part he had had a human name once, but it had been centuries ago. He now wore one more suited to the truth of his life. He was Darkness. Apparently the creature with whom he conversed had looked into his mind and decided that a similar name might be the least threatening, for it had named itself as Light. "Very well," he had said. "Let there be Light." Perhaps he needed illumination more than he needed information. And perhaps they were one and the same.

[Leareth]

"Very well. Fiat Lux." He spoke the words with a tone of sarcasm, but the statement could not have been more appropriate. The building, as he spoke, seemed to shatter into a million fragments of pure light. Light so intense that his body shone with reflections through the heavy clothing he wore to hide his crystalline skin. Then came the pain. It started in his arm, and then ceased. Then the pain in his chest, which also began and ceased as rapidly as it had come, and after, a million other sensations, each so fleeting that they blurred together until he would have wept with agony and pleasure had he been a living man. Wounds opened and closed in his flesh, like a manic God had chosen him to torture, simply for being. The terrain around him seemed to melt and flow, as though an incarnation of Salvador Dahli had been set loose to control the universe and make it in the image of his paintings.

It was at that point that everything ceased.

He snapped back into reality, to find everything changed. He was himself still, but the building was solid. His familiar was nearby, but also incredibly far away. Normally he felt the connection between them as a line, but now the line felt strange, as though it were out of place. The line perhaps running from a point to the left of his body to a point right of the monstrous stag's. It was a disturbing feeling, as though he were out of phase just slightly. "Lux. What is this place?"

I cannot recall. But, it is immaterial. You seek to know something of our lives past. Wander the streets and observe. View our mages and watch in awe. Be careful not to speak. You are not fluent in their language. If anyone asks anything, you are mute.

"I am visible and corporeal?"

That is mildly redundant, but to a degree you are. The portion of your flesh used to create this spell is now your body. It has been augmented with stray material nearby. You will find several things changed. While here you have no need or thirst. You are also stronger and faster than you were, and your scent and sight are better than they were in your true form. This body epitomizes some portion of yourself, if it is destroyed, the spell ends.

"I see." And he did, when he considered it. He could smell the dozens of traces that had been through this room, he was swift beyond imagining, and he felt the renewed strength in his undead muscles. "Very well Lux. Let us wander the city."

Once you leave this room, do not speak aloud. In this place we are neither here nor there, when we leave, we will be fully Here, and you will be an unintelligible madman to any who see you. It could become unpleasant if that occurs.

"I understand. I'll be quiet and behave then. I just have a few thoughts that need answered by some older than myself."

With those words he stepped out of the house, so fast he was nearly a blur, any human not watching carefully would have missed him entirely. He walked the streets for hours looking for signs of what he sought. The scent was unmistakable, if he could find it.

There wasn't a single trace. Had he gone too far? Were there no other Winterborn in this time period? Was he too early for their creation during the War of the Tap?

You are not quite too early.

Lux understood his intent, he sought others of his kind for advice on siring young and protecting them from their blodlust before they matured.

One of your kind is here, almst underneath your nose, if you would find him.

Leareth scented the air deeply, not paying any attention to how his actions were attracting the attenention, very negative attention, of the guards and others. His clothes had become tattered over the last weeks, and in this great wind strips fell off, revealing the skin beneath. That was about the time the first Guards began to charge him. Apparently they had some conception of what he was. The stones and arrows that begn to fly simply reinforced that, and a trio of the bladed shafts had penetrated near his heart. He fled rapidly, flashing nearly into invisibility with desperate speed as he sped the raging mob.

He didn't make it very far. Leareth was just out of sight when a massive force slammed into him, pinning him against a wall. This force spoke a tongue shared by the Winterborn. "Give me a very good reason not to destroy you where you stand for exposing us." The arrows snapped as he was hit against the building, leaving short stubs of wood in his body. Leareth didn't speak a sngle word. He simply gestured, and the magic that came at his call threw his opponent back, with a hole in his chest where the magical bolt had impacted. "I do not answer to you youngling. The accident by which my garments were shredded is none of my fault."

"You answer to me in my city."

"I answer to no one nowhere." The bolt had apparently deterred his assailant from closing again, and Leareth was thankful for the opportunity to extract the shattered weapons from his torso. "I am Leareth, and your arrogance will get you killed one day.

It does, eventually. He makes several young, and cannot control them. He is destroyed rapidly, and they follow soon after.

"Then how will he help me in my endeavour?" Conversing with nothingness surely seemed odd, but if he thought so, thew unknown adversary was unwilling to comment.

Because he already has one spawn. He has sheparded it into maturity. He can tell you how to raise a single Winterborn at a time.

[Leareth]

"Name yourself youngling. I am Leareth."

"I am Kadag. I rule here."

"You are alone here. You have one spawn who is mature. I actually need your help, but I can always negate that need by simply removing any spawn I create to the wastes of Salvar until maturity. No one notices a cold man in Salvar."

"Yes, but they do notice men that shine in the sun. What have you done that let your garments become tattered enough to expose us all?"

"I have been in many battles recently. They did not all go in my favor at all times. Three of my best bolts were wasted on pathetic humans. I did receive this fine blade in compensation though.

The other Winterborn simply smirked when he looked at the sword. It bore the image of Mitra. They hadn't attacked him for his shimmering skin. They had attacked him for the weapon he carried. "I cannot truly tell you anything you do not yet know. The only way to keep a spawn from going on a killing rampage is to prevent it from being near any prey. You must bring humans to it, until it can control itself enough to not devour a human on sight. It takes nearly two years to reach that state if you have a particularly troublesome spawn, as this one was."

"So this trip was wasted..."

"Not entirely. You still know what you wanted. You show more wisdom than most when creating young. I am impressed. I plan to make several more myself. Those like us in nearby cities are becoming edgy. I fear an attack at any moment."

"How many are there here? We are scarce upon the continent."

"There are 15 cities here. Of those 15, two thirds have ruling Winterborn." Ruling Winterborn was an exaggeration, and meant almost nothing to anyone but Winterborn. When a city was ruled, the humans within its walls were the sole prey of the ruler and his progeny. There were ten Winterborn with spawn in this land. And they would all be destroyed along with it.

His thoughts were interrupted by the pursuing guards. They had caught up finally. He had covered a massive distance in a very short time, energized as his false body was by the change in era. He raised his hand again, and repeated the gesture he had used on Kadag, who had disappeared as soon a he heard the guards coming, and blasted one out of his way. He followed up with a pile head from his crossbow, knocking another man to the ground. He had been hit high in the shoulder, and was down, but not out. Leareth disappeared soon after, leaving the downed guards to be tended by their comrades. One was dead. His bowels had been perforated by the magic, and his comrades gave him the gift of mercy. The other would live, despite the injury he had received. He might even have retained use of his arm.

Leareth fled the area, seeking out the tie to his magic. He had learned everything he needed, and he needed to remove his living spirit from danger as rapidly as possible. The house appeared before him again, he reentered the back room at a dead run, and dispelled the magic simultaneously. The entire process he had experienced before repeated itself in reverse, the world seeming to melt and flow away, before he lost all concentration and couldn't pay attention until he returned fully to his own body.

When he returned to himself, he grabbed up the piece of flesh from his arm, and returned it to its place, tearing a strip off his clothes, and tying it back in place. The runes carved into the bottom portion of the meat and skin continued to glow with a blue light underneath his skin, working to undo the ravages of time on his body. It would take a very long time until he even noticed what was happening, or had any idea that his strength was returning, but slowly and surely the muscles would regain their magical enhancement that had suffused them in his youth.

The sounds coming from outside the room finally registered. His familiar was fighting something. He could hear the impact of weapons in its flesh, and he loaded the crossbow, stepping into the other room and launching it into the first body he saw. That was the first point at which he went wrong. He had expected the unarmored, unknown humans again. This was a patrol of the militia, and the broadhead skipped off, failing to penetrate the armor. Thankfully, the spear wielding troops were having almost no luck at injuring his familiar. They kept it away from themselves, but couldn't get past it. Leareth knew this was going to end poorly, and did the only thing he could. He launched off a bolt of energy, followed by 4 more in rapid succession, enough to drain his magical energy for nearly ten minutes. It was also enough to leave his current enemies broken and bleeding in the doorway. Leareth slipped through the hole in the wall as Kernos continued to block the door, taking advantage of the crumbling construction to escape the trap lain by the soldiers. He paused outside and loaded his weapon, preparing to continue the fight if need be, but he was rescued from a surprising source. The strange humans that had plagued him as he invaded their city now attacked the guard, and in greater numbers than he had ever seen. As the two forces battled each other for the right to destroy him, he took the wise route out, and fled rapidly. His familiar was less lucky. He could feel when the deer's spinal column was finally severed by a well aimed spear, and he looked through its crippled eyes as the soldiers piled into the house to make their stand against the suddenly numerous cultists. The last thing he saw was the spearpoint coming for its face, and the destruction of its brain ended its usefulness to him. He continued to run, hoping that he would make it out into the desert without any further conflict. The buildings flashed by as he fled at a dead sprint. He was no faster than a human runner, but he could keep it up forever, and that would make all the difference.

"This trip has been utterly wasted." He muttered aloud to himself as he fled, and he thought he may have imagined a mental sigh from a familiar voice as he was fleeing, but he didn't pay it any mind. He knew that Lux was dispelled with the ending of the spell. It was the way the magic worked. It wasn't until the Fallien Guardsman caught up to him that he realized how wrong he was. The spell had not ended. He couldn't check anymore, the pieces of his body having bound themselves back together, but he knew what he would find if he had been able to examine his arm from within. The runes still burned with magic, keeping the spirit in this world and bound to him. And the spirit had taken the easiest course of action open to it. It had possessed a dead soldier. It would be both his ticket back into the city (it had apparently been fortuitous enough to possess the lieutenant of the patrol), and his new familiar with the death of Kernos.

"That was quite clever spirit. Why didn't the spell end when I returned?"

Crumbling buildings flashed by still as they fled the heart of the city, and the newly minted undead replied. "Because you did not know enough to dispel it. You ended the portion that kept your spirit in that past time, but you did not cease the entire magic of the spell."

Not for the first time, the undead necromancer wondered exactly who this Lux had been. He had his suspicions, as the names only held their meaning in the vampiric tongue, but he could not prove that Lux had once been the Winterborn known as Kadag. "I see. We are going to Salvar. It will be up to you to get me into the city and past the guards without question, so that I may book passage to the mainland and begin this quest of life again."

Leareth had no idea what the situation was in Salvar. He had no idea that he was about to walk into the bloodiest civil war in the history of Althanas, and he had no idea just how instrumental a part he was going to play in it, if he let himself be roped into the war.