To Each His Own (Closed)

[Cydnar]

To Each His Own (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o3cM-HOCbd0&feature=relmfu)


2660


Assignment claimed from Sic Semper Tyrannis (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?24163-Sic-Semper-Tyrannis).

Set following the Civil War between The Phoenix Ascendant and the Ixian Knights.

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Prologue


The letter came early morning three weeks ago. At first, I thought it a mistake, a misbelieved command amidst a web of confusion and consolidation. The war with the Ixian Knights had been at best, calamitous, and at worst, a pitiful waste of life and time. I set it aside, vowing to communicate with Elisdrasil in due course to discuss the matter. When a second letter came a week after that, the mistake became apparent. Despite our efforts in the conflict, it seemed the Phoenix Ascendant required our help once more. More so, they required our help on a matter that aligned perfectly with the tenets and purpose of my order.

Magic was being misused on the surface world. Magic was being toyed with, cajoled, tempered and fettered by those who knew not how to control it. Whilst I still had my doubts then, the journey to the town of Carromack Cross only served to bolster my resolve, and my belief, that the involvement of the Hummel on this matter was the only logical course of action to take. The countryside on the roads into the town is faithless, hallowed, and scarred places. Flames still burn in the heather, and craters mottle the once prosperous cornfields and rice paddies. Whatever has happened here these last few months has been on-going for many more, perhaps rolling into years, decades, centuries…

Though my brother does not share my enthusiasm for the thrill of a witch hunt, he has accompanied me through the mantle of the world and out into the darkness of midnight and moonshine. We shall see, I guess, what Elisdrasil means by ‘brothers tore apart by that which binds you siblings together’. I only hope there is some truth to the matter, so that we learn something from the experience besides furthering our knowledge of warfare.

[Cydnar]

“So tell me, Cydnar. Of all the places in the world, why would two brothers chose a place like this to wage their own personal duel?” Dalasi said candidly, knowing full well, from the smug expression on his face, that I would fall straight into his semantic trap. He was a man obsessed with two things – swords, and taunting me.

Not choosing to bite the entirety of the proverbial carrot dangled before me, I turned to look out of the small window of our quarters and sigh. He shuffled in the confines of his wing back chair and folded one leg over the other. He was getting comfortable for the evening’s entertainment. “Well,” I hazarded, “it can certainly be said such a vendetta as theirs would go unnoticed by much of the world here.” I had never heard of Carromack Cross until now. None of the Elders or the Wayfarers, the guides of our people had either. It was a border town between two unknowns, a non-entity, a void.

“You know I wish to play the game with you Cydnar, won’t you at least play your turn?” Dalasi sounded hurt, though I did not need to turn to confirm my doubts. Our volatile, dauntingly complex and eternally virile relationship was precisely the set of attributes that kept us so close, loyal, and kind to one another. It was as much a sibling rivalry as any, though with less fiery consequences for the world around us. I supposed that I should play, though not for as long as I once might have.

“Magic has consequences few who wield it consider.” I turned to face him at last, and met his smirk with a calm and polite smile. The indifference had been my shield many a time against his wit and barbed blows, “amongst them, the effects it has on other practitioners.” He frowned. “That is to say, a concentration and abundance of mages, a plethora of peons of the magical arts will inevitably do one of two things.” I walked to the table and sat opposite, equally shifting my body into a comfortable position in the inns lavish, though ageing furniture.

I rekindled the lecture the Magister of my temple had given me a century before, a method in his madness would never let me forget. He had spoken of the difference between absorption, amplification, and osmosis when discussing magical power. A group would either weaken, or strengthen one another, though more often than not the group would have little choice in the matter as to which of the two they experienced. “They either cause a diminishing scale, or an increasing one.”

The roar of the fireplace kept the silence between us distant, breaking the tension as equally ruthlessly as the heat and embers broke apart the last of the pine logs that had been left in the large wicker basket next to the hearth. I let the smouldering flames linger for a while, before continuing. “Out here in the wilds, an adequately powerful mage would have much more natural, raw, and untethered mana to work with. In effect, his power would be amplified as there would be no-one else to steal away his resources.” I pressed my fingers together inquisitively, and set my thumbs on my chin to contemplate where this conversation was likely to go.
Dalasi nodded, most out of place, and produced something from the sleeve of his tunic. He held it out to me, and I took it, though with much hesitation. I recognised the seal on the wax the letter was secured with instantly.

“Elisdrasil sent me a letter too; a week or so after you said you received the first.” He returned his hand to his lap. “I have not opened it until now because the courier solicited me to do so only once we arrived at the location of our next assignment for the Phoenix Ascendant.” He pointed to the window, and the dimming sunlight that still fell through the ageing pine, “and as we are here…” his thought path trailed off as mine began afresh.

[Cydnar]

“Why did he deliver it to you if it was meant for me?” I turned it over several times in both hands. It did not occur to me that Dalasi would take offence to being treated so suspect. I cleared my throat, “that is not to say I do not think he trusts you or I, but it seems odd.”

“I thought so too, but the courier’s insistence you received it only now, made me think that he had no doubt as to wherever or not you’d succeed.” He chuckled softly, his soft, flaxen hair falling out from behind his ears. “It seems that the high elf knows the desires of the low better than we do.” I guessed that Dalasi was correct. I had no intention of turning away another opportunity to forge a stronger bond between our respective groups, least of all one that meant we could undo another scourge on the surface. Magic had to be protected, its people punished, its criminals judged. I tore it open, and began to read without hesitation. Whatever was inside was worthy of both our attentions.

“Dear Cydnar and all those who accompany you.” The informal tone caused me to pause, look at Dalasi’s expectant smile, and check the seal once more. “Thank you for undertaking the assignment to Carromack Cross. I have asked no one else but you, for your work both during the recent conflict, and approach to the protection of Althanas and its people lends itself well to what you must do. You will find a man named Pathos in the Wayhouse, a portly fellow with red hair, who will gift to you both the location of the brothers who have been causing collateral damage in the area. You are to appease their aggression, by whatever means necessary, though of course I would prefer it if a peaceful solution were found and the landscape restored if possible.”

“Easier said than done,” Dalasi intruded, and I snapped a spiteful glance at him to stay his tongue whilst I continued.

“If you should require further assistance, then see Miranda, the Captain of the Guard Outpost some five miles north of the town. She is of the Flame, and will provide whatever help she can if the trouble and the anomalies have not spread her garrison too thin.”

“Hold on a moment,” my brother found his courage, and rose from his seat. “If there are already Phoenix Ascendant contacts in this part of the world, why send us, from the other side of the continent I might add, to contend with this problem?” he shrugged, walked to the window, and stared out at what I imagined to be the town square and the slowly emptying market place. Though the surface was slowly retiring to sleep, sobriety, and soiree, the Hummel were only just beginning to wake to a new day.

“If steel were an answer to the meddling of Arte and Merric, I daresay we would not be here, and the countryside around us would not be so devastated and corrupted.” Which I assumed was because of the sheer length of time this conundrum had been left unsolved. “I think we should waste no time in seeking out Pathos, so that our doubts can be put to rest.”

"I quite agree," he boisterously replied.

I rose and walked to my brother’s side, and looked out into the beyond. Sure enough, the market place to the north of the tavern was all but empty now. When we had arrived, it had been a hive of activity, now all that was left were a few rotten vegetables, beggars, and children playing with crooks and hoops in the last moments before night’s caress.

[Cydnar]

Our journey to Corone, and in turn, to Carromack Cross had been uneventful. Despite the recent cessation of conflict between the many political groups that vied for power in the country, it was almost as if war had remained a distant prospect to the corn fields and sprawling paddies of the South. Even with Gisela, and Jadet alike close at hand, the rural heart of the island remained blissfully unaware of what we, and those who fought with us had endured.

“Would you like to do the talking?” Dalasi asked mockingly. I assumed he had no intention of resorting to what he would view as petty democracy during the course of our assignment. He was a martial man, born and bred to the servitude of his blade, and any contribution he made to the parlance with the wizards would be purely in terms of brute, as opposed to beguiling strength.

“If you wish,” I replied, not wanting to stretch out the exchange longer than was required. I turned on a heel, and walked to the door of our quarters. The moment I set my hand against the oak knob, he followed. His wistful footsteps echoed through the chamber ominously.

“I thought as much,” he said smarmily.

“Oh come now, brother, we are not here to fight amongst ourselves.” I rolled my eyes in his general direction. As I stepped out into the corridor that ran along the tavern’s length east to West, I took a deep breath, and recognised the strange smell instantly. The innkeeper’s wife or perhaps the innkeeper himself was in the middle of a hedonistic round of baking. The smell of fresh bread for the evening service was running amok in the upper atmosphere of the ancient building. It danced in the air alongside stale smoke and ale.

“I am not fighting, Cydnar.” Dalasi chuckled. He pulled the door to and closed it, remembering to lock it with his key as he followed my advance along the landing. We came to the top of the spiralling stairs that lead down into the bar and foyer. “I just want to make sure we know who is doing what, before it happens this time.” It did not take a genius to realise he was referring to the incident with the fish. I had been ill-prepared then; I had no intention of being caught so unawares once more.

“If you’re going to hold that against me every time, brother, then drive your sword through my gullet right this minute.” My flat, deadbeat tone undid any further attempts at belittling my integrity. I had no doubt at all, as sure as the grain beneath my fingers as I descended the staircase, which he would continue to taunt me with that particular mistake for centuries to come.

“That would not be half as much fun,” he chuckled louder.

When we broke out of the bend in the stairs, the forty foot long, twenty foot wide bar turned to greet us. There were ten or so faces readily glaring, examining, and inspecting every inch of our simplistically attired forms. Elves, it seemed, were not too common of a sight in the hearth and fire of rural Corone. The awkward silence that followed did nothing to appease my nerves. Straw and hay bales, apple pie and Sunday markets were far things from the maddening crowd of war. Despite my diplomatic sense, I froze, unable to respond appropriately.

“Evening all,” said Dalasi, calmly and smoothly, as he passed me on the stairs and began to cross the stone floor. I watched him, transfixed by his sudden exegesis, and wondered. When he reached the bar, he sat, and leant an elbow against the blood-stained frame in wait. I followed, though aloof and cantankerous. If he had been so calm, collected, and about himself, why had he asked me to do the talking with the man named Pathos?

“Okay, you will have to,” he raised a finger to silence me as the barkeep saw his raised hand and approached.

“What will it be sirs?” he looked between Dalasi and myself, all the while polishing a tankard, which was for another customer further along the counter.

Dalasi looked briefly over his shoulder at the door, then at me, and then back to the barkeep.

“Two glasses of your best white wine, if you’d please. Neither of us,” he jabbed a finger at me as I sat to his left, “are particularly fussy as to which vintage, region, nor grape said wine is made from.” In response, the barkeep nodded, listening, waiting, and thinking, and then broke away from us. His moustache, out of place on his youthful and beaming smile bobbed as he did, until he turned away completely and set about pouring from a bottle at the extreme end of the counter. Dalasi turned to me, reserved, smiling, and relaxed.

“So how shall we do this, brother?”