caerulex
patreon
Chapter 329. Safe House
🕑 Added 2023-02-19 03:15:44 +0000 UTC[ hey folks, tweaked the previous chapter to make it more obvious how badly ian was injured. instead of a normal swimsuit he's wearing the wetsuit he wore in the jermal trench when swimming to the rift; it covers his body and face. ]
Ian padded across the beach to the closest restroom. He gingerly peeled off the skintight wetsuit. Maria’s cloak passed for a towel, but didn’t wick moisture well, so Ian’s bare head and feet were still clammy.
With no one looking in the small single stall, Ian released the power of the cloak, bathing himself in the warmth of Maria’s fire. He dressed himself in a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, both saved from before he ascended. He hadn’t worn them in Eternity because he hadn’t wanted to accidentally destroy them. He didn’t have a pair of normal shoes, so he grabbed a pair of black dress shoes from one of Cayeun Suncloud’s suit sets.
Without the transformation of the Blade of Revelation strengthening his body, Ian felt drained and oddly jittery. Forcing his fingers to remain steady, he reached into the void storage on his belt and pulled out his glossY. He’d kept it in his void storage for years of dilated time, but only two or so months had passed in reality.
It should still work.
As it powered on, Maria questioned him. Shouldn’t you use the transmission artifact to let people know that you’re alive?
I’ll call Karanos and Red later, when I’m somewhere safe.
Euryphel?
The glossY jolted slightly, indicating that it had successfully turned on. I can reach him via text message. Using the transmission artifact is unnecessary.
You don’t want him to see you like this, Maria guessed.
He might do something rash, like insist on sending his best Life practitioners to my location.
That would draw unneeded attention, Maria surmised. He wouldn’t do something so pointless.
Ian navigated to the messaging application–or tried to. Unfortunately, both he and Maria could only see in shades of vitality, so the screen was impossible to read.
Can’t you just call him? Maria asked. You should at least be able to start a call while blind.
I can’t speak. That’s part of the problem with calling him with the transmission artifact.
After a minute of struggling with the glossY, Ian gave up with a huff and put the device into his pocket. He went back to the void storage sack and rifled around. He pulled out a beanie, a pair of sunglasses, and a scarf.
They were necessary given his mottled, hairless scalp and ruined eyes. He wished he had a plain surgical mask to hide the lower half of his face, but the scarf would have to suffice, even if it looked out of place in the mild climate. The hat had the bonus of covering the ember diadem from Maria’s regalia. He was thankful that the embers weren’t flammable.
Suddenly, the bathroom doorknob wiggled, followed by a knock. He sensed a person outside tapping their foot in impatience.
Ian knew he couldn’t delay further. He pulled any lingering Death energy into himself, then opened the door. He made his way onto a pedestrian walkway, taking note of the hovergloss rails above. It had to be at least a city–not a town–to have multiple elevated rails.
As Ian walked–trying his best not to stagger on his ruined legs–he dove into people’s minds, trying to learn as much as he could about their surroundings. He was clumsy at reading more than surface thoughts, but quickly learned a few critical details.
First: they were in a small city named Chemissa in southern Shibaria, named for the Chemissa Sound, a water feature that was too small to show on anything larger than a regional map.
Ian nearly facepalmed. Chemissa. Here they had been trying to track down Achemiss’s origins by listening to his language, accent, and talking to Soolemar…
Long ago, wanderers often took a surname based on the town of their birth, Maria mused.
The second detail Ian learned was that the city was under a freak weather advisory notice, which explained why few people were out despite the pleasant weather. Apparently, a freak storm-cum-tsunami had destroyed a marina that was part of the greater Chemissa metropolitan area.
Some storm, Ian thought ruefully. He supposed calling his battle with Achemiss a freak storm was better than calling it what it was.
If regular people knew that two powerful practitioners fought and murdered thousands in a populated area, there would be mass panic, Maria said. Practitioner peacekeepers and investigators know the truth, though–and they’ll be looking for the perpetrators. You absolutely must not let yourself be caught. You will have been marked as extremely dangerous, too dangerous to capture alive.
Ian paused. I wonder if Eury’s heard the news and made the connection. After all, this place is called Chemissa. He sighed. Maybe I should call him before he works himself into a panic. If Ian used the Blade of Revelation to transform the transmission artifact, bringing Euryphel to Chemissa, Ian would be able to speak into his mind using his Remorse affinity.
More importantly… Euryphel could actually see. Unable to read any signs or maps, Ian was walking around aimlessly, hoping to sense practitioners using Life affinity through building walls.
Resigned to calling his friend, Ian walked into an alleyway and stepped behind a dumpster. Maria didn’t say anything as Ian withdrew the Blade of Revelation and transmission artifact from a void storage, though he sensed her smugness over the lich bond.
He chuckled, though the sound died in his throat and made him cough. The section of the scarf over his mouth was covered in bloody spittle. He pulled it down and the blood droplets sloughed off, visibly decomposing. In a second, all that remained were trace amounts of dark sludge that Ian deposited in the dumpster.
Maria’s smugness turned to concern.
I’m fine, he insisted. Still apprehensive, he used the Blade of Revelation on the transmission artifact and activated it to summon Euryphel.
Euryphel appeared genuinely surprised by the summons, his eyes wide and his hair in disarray. Ian wasn’t sure that he’d even be able to see Euryphel without working eyes, but it seemed his concern was pointless. After all, Maria had no problems using her vital perception to see people with the transmission artifact.
It wasn’t the same seeing Euryphel in monochrome, however. Part of him felt that Euryphel wasn’t real unless he could see the man’s characteristic blue-green eyes and platinum blond hair.
“Y’jeni, I take a nap for one minute…” the Crowned Executor groused, though his facial expression didn’t match the complaint. His eyes misted, his jaw trembling. He lowered his voice. “I’m so happy you’re alive.”
Ian didn’t know how to react to the sincerity in his tone. For a moment, Ian was thankful that Achemiss disintegrated his tear ducts.
At least for now, he didn’t want kindness and sympathy. He wanted to be admonished.
“I failed,” Ian said, speaking into Euryphel’s mind. “I destroyed Achemiss body and soul, but he still lives. He escaped far away, beyond Maria’s fatesight.”
Euryphel just looked at him. “If that’s true, then at a minimum, he should be grievously injured. He’ll need time to recover.” He smiled, his voice barely more than a whisper. “You have End practitioners in spades–we will find him and end him.”
Ian nodded once, not at all comforted. “I need your help.”
“I know.” Euryphel’s tone turned frosty. “I’m not blind, nor am I stupid. How injured are you?”
“Injured enough to need a Life practitioner.”
“Where are you?”
“Chemissa. Haven’t you seen the news?”
Euryphel scratched his nose. “I’ve been trying to stay awake for the past three days straight. I might have dozed off for more than a minute. I assume you fought him a few minutes ago?”
“About an hour ago, now,” Ian admitted.
Euryphel’s mouth popped open. Scowling, he said, “Ur–ahem, Claysaber was supposed to wake me if I fell asleep for more than an hour, especially if anything happened that might be related to… you know.” He waved his arm imploringly. “Please explain what’s happened.”
Ian got the reference–Guardian Urstes’s original courtesy name had been Claysaber, though he’d changed it after his wife complained that it was too phallic.
Ian spoke broadly about fighting Achemiss on the marina and fleeing to Chemissa. He let Maria take over and explain what she’d observed with her fatesight.
“I can’t believe I stayed up only to sleep right when everything happened,” the executor murmured. “So, we’re in Chemissa.”
“Are you familiar with it?”
“Nope. Do you need to be treated here, or are you well enough to take a transit array?”
“I should be treated immediately,” Ian confessed. “Can you help me find a Life practitioner in the area?”
“Kill the transmission for five minutes. I’m going to make a call and send someone to you.”
“You’ll just invite scrutiny if you send one of your practitioners here,” Ian protested.
“I’m sending one of the others,” Euryphel said. Ian interpreted “others” as the Darkseers. “If I’m not mistaken, there should be someone nearby.”
Ian frowned, though deactivated the artifact. Euryphel disappeared.
Ian waited impatiently, picking at the mind of the regulars nearby. When around five minutes had passed, he activated the artifact again. Euryphel reappeared, though he no longer looked so disheveled. His hair was well-combed, and he had changed into a new robe.
“Well?” Ian asked.
“Someone will meet you; since you’re impaired, I’ll lead you to the place.”
Ian pulled the scarf tight and pushed up his sunglasses. “Lead the way.”
Euryphel led Ian through the depopulated walkways of Chemissa, occasionally referencing a set of directions that he’d written on his arm. A few times, Ian sensed practitioners patrolling through the streets, the vital energy flowing through their bodies giving them away. He avoided them, occasionally dismissing and resummoning Euryphel to make use of the practitioner’s Regret affinity to sound out the best path. It was the same technique they’d used at the Hall of Ascension’s competition. While back in his corporeal body, Euryphel could start a Regret scenario before Ian reactivated the transmission artifact. That way, he could loop the next minute by Ian’s side.
After walking for over fifty minutes–they moved slowly given the patrols and Ian’s injuries–they reached a large single-family home in a well-kept neighborhood with a semi-occluded view of lake Adrian. Ian sensed someone inside, a woman, though he couldn’t tell what kind of practitioner she was. She was deliberately controlling the flow of her vital energy.
This house seems normal at first glance, Maria thought, but there are End arrays in the walls and roof, drawn to blend in with the bricks and shingles. I can’t tell what their functions are.
Out of caution, Ian summoned and resummoned the Regret practitioner to scout out the next minute.
“It’s fine,” Euryphel assured him, leading Ian around the back. “The door is unlocked.”
Sure enough, when Ian tried the doorknob, it twisted easily. He pulled the door open and walked through a well-lit hallway into a living room. Euryphel walked a few paces ahead.
The woman was standing in the middle of the room, clearly waiting for them. She had dark hair cut to her shoulders and was dressed in a flowing blouse and leather pants. She vaguely reminded Ian of General Var’dun’a. Ian didn’t recognize her.
He couldn’t glean anything from her surface thoughts, either. Her mind was closed off with the discipline of a powerful practitioner, one trained from a young age. With the help of ascendant energy, he’d be able to probe forcefully into her mind, but that would earn her enmity.
“Eury, I don’t know who this is. Can you introduce us?”
Euryphel cleared his throat. “Ian, this is Linda. Linda, Ian.”
Ian knew the Darkseers roster. There was only one person this could be: Lindabet Zhuram, Life and Dark dual practitioner, Night Queen and sovereign of Datcha.
Maria, I freaking told you. He brought one of the most powerful Life practitioners in the world to heal me.
Maybe she was just in the neighborhood?
