Weight of the World

[Letho]

“You must do something!”

Letho’s voice was a thunder in the council hall, the force of its echo shaking the Cillu glass chandeliers and making them twinkle. But it was the strike of his mailed fist against the heavyset ornate table that startled everyone, toppling goblets and earning him more than a few stabbing gazes. Sitting there in his dark red mail, Letho returned every one of them, his eyes unyielding below the line of his dun grey bandana. General Akrem, a lean war veteran with dusty gray hair, was the first to get to his feet, hand on the hilt of the curved sword that hung on his hip.

“You presume too much, gatan,” the old man growled through clenched teeth, an old wrinkled finger pointing to where Letho sat. Like all Fallieni, the General had the almond-shaped eyes and the dark olive skin of his people, and like all Fallieni he was quick to defend any slight against Jya. Other military commanders, some young and beardless, others looking as old as time itself, followed the lead of their general, rising to their feet in unison, leaving only the outsiders seated. It was supposed to look rather impressive, but Seth Dahlios and Letho Ravenheart didn’t look intimidated by the show. There was even a faintest of smirk at the edge of the Lavinian’s mouth. “You are in presence of the Mother of Fallien, where greater men than you were killed for their insolence. Do not...”

“Peace, Akrem,” a voice came from above them. Beyond the table where all the councilors sat were seven large steps, each engraved with series of images that Letho assumed represented the history of Fallien. But though the stone carvings were intricate and magnificent, the person that sat at the throne atop those seven steps was more magnificent still. A woman of alien beauty looked down on the congregation of warriors and priestesses, her eyes sad and demure and at the same time filled with terrible fire. Her hair was as black as night and nothing like the sandy grey shades that the women of Fallien usually had, spilling over her shoulders and reaching almost down to her waist in a series of tiny braids. The dress she wore didn’t look like any dress Letho had ever seen, numerous layers of airy fabric wrapped around her frame at different angles, making the woman look like a budding flower whose petals were yet to unfold. Twin beams of fierce Fallien sun descended from the windows close to the ceiling of the hall, giving the Mother of Fallien an unmistakable air of majesty.

Though it was a view that would send most men to their knees, Letho was made of sterner stuff. He had seen kings and queens and enough holy men to last him two lifetimes. And he had seen Jya before as well. More than a decade ago Myrhia and he helped save Irrakam from a fiery blaze, and for their contribution they had received a reward from Jya herself, even sat next to the holy woman at the banquet that followed. And today she looked nothing like on that joyous day. She looked smaller somehow, more fragile, as if a shadow was passing over her. When she spoke again, her voice was strict but not without kindness.

“I am certain our friend meant no offense,” Jya said, regarding Letho with a look that could’ve meant anything from genteel empathy to annoyance resulting in an execution. Her words made the soldiers lower themselves back to their cushioned seats one by one, but only after each one gave Letho a good firm glance. “What would you have us do, Ser Ravenheart?”

“Take the initiative. Take the fight to them. Call for aid. Anything except cowering behind your walls,” Letho said, and this time there was emotion on Jya’s face. It looked a lot like fury, as the majestic woman rose to her feet.

“We do not cower, ser,” she said, her tone venomous, her eyes ablaze. “I’ve sent my best warriors into that mist. The ghastly thing sent them back as wraiths to harry our walls.” She took a step down from her pedestal as she spoke, then another. “And to whom should we look for aid?” Another step. “Raiaera still reels from the war, the dark elves of Alerar care nothing for plights other than their own, Salvar is half the world away and Corone sends but two to aid our cause.”

By the time she made her descent and stood at the head of the long table, some of the anger had gone out of her, her frown softening. Her gathering of war veterans and commanders sprung to their feet instantly; Letho and Seth followed suit with less enthusiasm. She looked down on the array of maps and parchment, leaning against the surface of the table. “I understand you have a personal stake in this, ser. When this anomaly appeared, a lot were drawn to it. I mourn for your daughter...” Her hand passed over an area on the map that was freshly painted with a faint red ink, which was a close approximation of the location and size of the magical mist. “But I have my people to think of. Sons and daughters of Fallien must endure this storm.”

A part of Letho wanted to slam his fist against the table again. A part of him wanted to take the woman by the shoulders and shake her until she came to her senses. And a part of him wanted to do what he usually did; just march out and deal with everything himself. But none of those options were viable and none would get him what he wanted. Nobody knew what the magical anomaly was, other than that it kept spreading and corrupting everything it touched, a black mist that spilled over the landscape like a flood. Every day it encroached towards Irrakam, and every day more and more it sent more monsters against the untainted world. It was crazy to still believe his daughter was alive amidst that madness, but Letho believed, had to believe. But in order to mount any kind of rescue, he would need the help of the desert folk.

“Sons and daughters of Fallien are going to perish if this thing is not stopped. You cannot weather this storm,” Letho said, trying to lessen the severity of his tone and failing by the looks on the faces around him.

“And what would you know of storms, ser?” one of the other commanders spoke, a bald one-eyed war dog whose bulk nearly matched Letho’s. “Our priestesses believe this anomaly is a temporary outburst that will subside in time. If we persist...”

“You will die!” Letho interrupted, earning himself another round of threatening looks. “I may not know a whole lot about storms, but my friend here knows something about dark magic. You would do well to listen to him.” Turning to Seth, he wasn’t quite sure if designating him as a friend was correct, not after all they went through. They’d been at each other’s throats too many times in the past to be friends, but there had never been any real enmity between the two. What they did share was mutual respect, and that was probably as close to friendship as people like Letho and Seth were able to get these days. Folding his arms across the bulk of his chest, Letho waited for the Lavinian to make his deposition.

[Dissinger]

Eye locked upon the Lavinian, as all waited for him to speak. The thief merely rose and moved down the table to the maps. The red circle was a good start on where the problems had erupted, and Seth was more than certain he knew where it lay, if only for the books he had read long ago. Silence reigned in the hall as they looked upon the Demon who looked upon the maps patiently. Finally one of the commanders barked, “Speak Devil-“

“I am no Devil, I am a demon, and there is a difference. Much like this storm, demons relish in chaos,” Seth began as he looked the man squarely in the eyes. The man seemed to grow silent as Seth continued his tale looking out at the others, “You are looking at the magical release of something that was abandoned long ago. The books I read on this artifact were hidden in the deepest recesses of the libraries in Salvar and Alerar, and even then it was denounced as a fool’s errand.”

“So who would take it up?” The Jya’s tone held reserve, as if offering the question she knew her people would ask.

“I’m not the kind of man that would go looking for power like that anymore, nor do I stay in those circles. That isn’t the important part. The important part is that mist is raw magic, charged with the emotions of the one who’s running the artifact. Their greed and lust for power has caused that mist to overcome the sensibilities of anyone who it so much as brushes against. Your men failed because they yearned to be stronger on some level-“

“You will not dare slander the men of the Jya’s guard!” The general spat as he pointed a finger accusingly.

Seth met the gaze of the man, even as his knives clinked against each other on his belt. He crossed his arms as he leveled a glare of unrestrained hatred at the man who dared to interrupt him, and to the general’s credit, he didn’t back down, when Seth spoke his voice was firm, “Then explain to me why your men came back to the walls to attack a person they swore to protect with their lives. Explain how they were so without sin that the storm couldn’t twist and turn their thoughts against them. That storm out there is the force of one man’s sins, and it grows every day, you do the math. It will engulf Fallien before it’s done and in that moment all will turn upon each other.”

The commanders seemed shaken by the finality of the Lavinian’s tone as they looked upon each other, even the fire in the general’s eyes seemed to fade a bit as he lowered his hand. The Jya looked upon the Demon studying him as she remained silent. Seth could see the look Letho fed him and was sure the guy was going to ask the question, and Seth cut him off before he got started, “This cloud begins by assessing those who walk into it. Once it’s done it latches onto their thoughts and encourages all that match its profile, Greed and Lust of Power in this case. If the guards had ever desired to grow stronger that cloud would have ripped them apart in the matter of a few days. Only the more saintly of them could have lasted a week.”

“I give Irrakam a month at most and only because there might be a few virtuous enough to protect the Jya. I don’t think the mist will pervade the walls of this palace, but it will send it’s minions in to do the job,” Seth said finally.

“Why do you think that?” The general asked taking some solace in those words.

“This is a place of power. The Jya is perhaps one of the few people I could reason would be able to enter that fog and come out unscathed. She knows what power is, and that it always comes with a cost. Not on a mental level,” Seth said tapping his forehead, before the finger tapped his heart, “But here, where it counts. There isn’t a part of her body that wants for more power, because she knows that there is such a thing as too much…” and probably despises the power she does have. He knew better than to say it, but of all the world leaders Seth had the luxury of watching, the Jya was the only one he could reasonably be sure would have his back in this mist. “The palace would be protected because this place is a bastion of Power, it’s the goal. I wouldn’t give much thought to the temples here as they are subservient to the Jya and the Palace. This is the Seat of Power gentlemen; the mist would merely sate itself and dissipate a few steps into this place.”

“So no matter what we do we lose,” The general asked his choler rising once more. The commanders had backed away from the man as Akrem moved around the table to face the foreign devil himself. A hand went so far as to grab the Lavinian by his collar as he hissed his words at the Lavinian, spittle flying with the outburst, “Why should I trust you Demon, you who’s tread is paved in the bodies of the innocent? What great acts have you done that show me we should believe one venomous word from your tongue?”

Swords were drawn as the guards all moved to separate the two, even as Seth had carefully drawn and placed a knife against the general’s stomach. Their eyes locked in a deadly battle of wills before the guards pulled the Demon back, all while the Jya watched silently. He carefully flicked the knife a few times in his hand and gathered a feel for its comfortable weight before it was holstered and he dusted itself off. He looked at Letho and saw the frown on his face before he shrugged to the marshall and spoke, “Don’t believe me, cast me out into the streets for all I care. I’m the one who came here to give you help. You are certainly within your rights to throw me out. All I’m going to ask is that you toss me into the desert, because while I have respect for your holy Jya, I certainly don’t owe her shit.”

“You dare foul this place with your language! I should have a guard cut out your tongue-“

Finally the Jya spoke, “Akrem, be still. Seth Dahlios, be still. Do not think I am unaware when one is baiting my men. You have a point, please Seth make it.”

It felt odd, being called demon by her guard the woman in charge of Fallien had only ever referred to Seth by his given name. It was as if she was looking at him and saw he was a wounded dog, snapping at any who came at it. He looked to her for a moment, seeing the pain of Loss. She truly believed she was the Mother of Fallien and every death had hurt her dearly. Having to destroy her own guards had taken a toll upon her as she saw the blasphemy herself, the men tormented and twisted into a mockery of themselves. She wanted a solution, not another naysayer.

“First thing is first, we need to evacuate as much of the city as possible. Send them down the river as far from here as possible. If you truly care for your people General Akrem you would have begun this a week ago when it started. The less people in the city the less you have to keep in the walls. Perhaps if you’re fast enough you can get all the lower castes out of the city and not have to dirty this place with the tread of the lowly…” Seth said firmly.

“Even if I started a week ago I’d be only halfway through such an effort and no closer to solving this problem!” Akrem protested. Of course he did, Seth knew a self-centered bastard when he saw one. His eyes looked upon the man before he shook his head dismissively and turned to the Jya, ignoring the general altogether.

Seth did something that he had never in his life done before. He took a knee and bowed his head in respect and subservience. He could feel Letho’s eyes upon him, perhaps even their widening a bit as Seth spoke his voice firm, “Holy Jya, I beg you, get the innocents out of this city. If you do not, when the mists come into this town they will be the first consumed. If that were to happen Fallien would become naught but a desert tomb, your people’s fire extinguished from this world.”

“After they are freed, what is the next step,” The Jya asked, and Seth wanted to finally cheer that someone was listening to him.

“At that point, Letho and I will go into the mist. If you wish one of your own to risk it they may accompany us. Though I will admit, I have a guide.” Seth replied before he carefully pulled out a small trinket from his neck. It looked like a small tooth though it jerked wildly towards where the mist was coming from.

“Jya, do not listen to that dog, it bows its head to no one and this is but an act to play on your sympathy. He is nothing but a vessel of deceit and treachery, he killed his own parents!” General Akrem tried one last bid to be in the decision making process.

“Seth Dahlios, look at me,” The Jya commanded. Seth took a steadying breath and raised his eyes to the woman, who met his gaze. It felt like forever, but she merely looked upon the Demon for mere seconds before she spoke her voice warmer than it had been, “He speaks the truth. I see the pain of a parent, and no monster would feel pain at that most joyous of occasions. What is your child’s name?”

“Samantha,” Seth replied, the words filtering through the room.

“Where is she?”

Silence was his answer.

“So I see, you came because you do not wish your plight upon another. It comes together, general, evacuate the people and prepare provisions for these two. May the sun bless them as they bring our light into the darkness,” The Jya ordered and waved her hand for dismissal.

As the men filtered out of the room, Seth turned to look at Letho before he spoke softly, “Well, I guess that cat’s out of the bag, appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone.”

It was at that moment the horns on the walls of Irrakam sounded another attack. It seemed the mist was impatient, and refused to wait to reach the walls to harass the people of Fallien.

[Silence Sei]

The staff slammed down hard upon the head of the crazed man, planting him firmly upon the ground. The mute closed his eyes as the sharp point of his ally’s punch dagger ran itself through the downed target, the glisten of the blade shining out of the corpse’s mouth. Sei Orlouge closed his eyes, the pit of his stomach growing queasy at the sight. There was a ‘splurch’ sound as the dagger was pulled out of the now inanimate head.

“Must you insist on being so vulgar, Jensen?” the telepath looked towards his amber haired compatriot, the enigmatic immortal, Jensen Ambrose. By this point, the profane professional had coated his body in deep shades of crimson. While Sei had been taking a more humane approach to Fallien’s epidemic, Jensen had a more final solution to the problem.

“Shut up Sei,” Jensen spat out at his employer, “there already dead. If we tried to cure em, they’d just be in agony until they died again. Why don’t you get that?!”

“Everyone deserves a chance at redemption, Mister Ambrose,” Sei grabbed tightly to both ends of his three-sectioned-staff, the middle part of the weapon quickly detaching from the other two pieces. Sei grabbed this loose item and quickly threw it into the ever increasing sandstorm. With his improved vision, the mute followed the trajectory of his projectile as it ricocheted off the skulls of more unstable souls, their bodies collapsing to the ground like a house of cards.

Sei and Jensen had come to Fallien following reports of the sandstorms that seemed to ‘convert’ people into fits of insanity. The crazed citizens, according to the report, would press on with their unrelenting attacks through almost any physical injury. Sei had only seen such wild actions before in Lavinya, where zombies and vampires had become the major population of the country. If there were people now acting in a similar fashion in Fallien, it could mean a war against an already struggling Lavinya.

Sei, who had accidentally become one of Lavinya’s ‘Lords’ due to slaying a person who previously held the title, felt as though it was his duty to investigate these strange occurrences. Furthermore, the mute’s uneasy relationship with the Jya gad the potential to be strengthened if he could get down to the bottom of the sandstorms. Such an ally would be of great value to the Ixian Knights, who had become a force to be reckoned with thanks to their seizing on most of Corone.

Grains of sand whipped against the telepath’s features, raking across his flesh as if threatening the Mystic. He could feel the magical prowess coming from the storm, his very being trembling in awe of its power. The smell of rotted flesh was masked thanks to bits of dust flying everywhere around them. The clouds had gotten so dense, Sei could no longer see the exterior of Jya’s Keep. For such massive gates to be hidden from his view was surely a testament to the power of the storm.

“Hold the line, Jensen,” Sei’s telepathy proved more than useful during this outing; a way for his ally to hear him without actually having to use his ears. Such a gift was handy considering the howling winds and raspy sand clogging the normal senses. He could feel the magic starting to subside, the storm perhaps dying down. As he watched through the clouds, he could see a small force of ‘psychos’ running towards them, easily one hundred of them rushing through the storm, their skin burned and flayed by Fallien’s harsh environmental hazards. Even with their combined skills, the Mystic knew that such a number had a good chance to overwhelm them.

Luckily, with this group also came two conscious mental signatures.

“Reinforcements…,” Sei made sure to send his message to his immortal friend, “We may win the day yet...”

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Daggers twirled between his fingers with a whistling noise, punctuated with the insanity of his cackling. Strips of crimson blood splashed around his trench coat making a mural to his madness. Sei Orlouge had maybe been right. Perhaps he was being Vulgar and over doing it, but then again it seemed the world at large was overdoing it. Cassandra Remi's attack on Ixia had been brutal, the death tolls in the thousands as hundreds of families were ruined, lives forever changed and corrupted by the Demi-God's quest for full godhood.

"I heard ya the first time," Jensen said loudly as he holstered his daggers, drawing out the length of the Zodiac Weapon Cancer. The Switchblade like sword twitched into life as Jensen thumbed the mechanism to extend the blade outwards like a scythe, before retracting it back into the sword. "I still not sure what good they'll do us," the immortal mumbled.

"Jensen, it's they who will lead us to victory," Sei thought to his friend. The knight built up a wad of spit and loosed it on the ground.

"Isn't the supposed hero of Corone, the Ranger of Ranger's, the King of King's, mighty is he: Letho 'Don't forget to buy your Gunblade flavored Barbecue Sauce' Ravenheart here to swing his blade once, fart, and destroy the whole world? I still don't even know why we are here,"

"I could go over the mission brief again if you want," Sei replied nonchalantly. Jensen shrugged as he leaned his blade against his shoulder, eyes looking towards the location the Reinforcements would arrive. "We need to regroup the forces before making a final attack."

"I don't think this will end as easily as you make it out, Sei," Jensen trotted to stand next to his companion, the last of people the Immortal trusted at all in these dark times. "We may need that Barbecue sauce just to make a dent in that mist. Those people coming are only going to delay an inevitable."

Sei's hand raised to Jensen's shoulder, gingerly holding it. "Victory isn't impossible, Jensen," the mute said. "But it sure as hell won't be easy," Jensen looked to the mute's eyes, seeing the conviction in them. If there was one man in Jensen's life who was constantly there, it was Sei, and the man wouldn't have brought the immortal if he didn't need him.

"Alright then," Jensen said with a chuckle. "Let's go meet the reinforcements."