Warrior of the Void Book 1, Chapter 48

Chapter 48

“Brothers, does the ‘how’ she became acquainted with The Archwarden of Nightmares Given Flesh truly matters so?” Cocobezi, who had joined them only a few minutes prior, drawled with naked amusement.

““Yes!”” Both of the other Cocos grumbled, for entirely different reasons. One argued that it was a deeply dangerous area of the Ossuary, and that anyone going there was at risk. While the other was more worried about the potential failings of the wards meant to keep the place hidden – that honestly looped back to the simple worry of people getting injured, or worse.

“I’m pretty sure the Warden already spanked senseless whatever monster was going around and tightened the wards more than the syndicate’s purse strings.” Muur commented, chucking in her two cents. Gil. Whatever.

Those gil just bounced off their thick cranium and fell down the gutter of unimportance, considering that the Guildmasters failed to even acknowledge her words. Instead, their bickering intensified… taking that as her cue, Muur left them be and looked over her surroundings. Which–

We're the exact same as they ever were. Algar had let slip that these halls were meant to serve as underground defences, at least in parts. And frankly? She could see it. Every wall looked almost the exact same, every intersection the mirror of a different one somewhere else in this labyrinth. 

Add to that the sheer number of turns they'd taken, and Muur had no clue where in the world she was compared to the infirmary they'd left. Let alone the places she'd grow familiar with.

“A visit most unexpected,” Her mind was pulled back to the here and now when a quiet whisper touched her horns. At once indistinct and directionless, Muur somehow heard each word like it had been spoken right next to her, “Of the Five, here stand Three. A guest not known to me at their sides, and all unannounced?” A non-breeze caught Muur’s attention just long enough for her to look down one of the side passages they’d been walking past– Only for a newcomer to stand in the middle of the corridor the group had been heading into.

Her brain stalled for half a second. The reality of then, an empty hallway devoid of life, and of now, that someone now occupied a space that had been as barren as the desert’s dune, conflicted for just enough time that the individual began to speak once again, “Such sights ever preclude joy. Thus I must ask thee, o’ Guildmasters, to what might I owe such an ill-fortunate meeting?”

“““Warden,””” All three lalafel respectfully bowed to the apparition, before Cocobuki took a step forward and  “We come to beseech your most ancient of wisdom. For even as we stand here, Three amongst the Five, we find ourselves unable to divine the truth of what assails this initiate. Thus we would ask to be granted knowledge wrought from the deeper mysteries of your station.”

A soundless chuckle left by the Warden’s gilded, somewhat avian, mask. Its onyx surface trembled by the barest amount as they wandered closer, “Ah, so it is that day hast come? I see…,” To say their approach was silent would be a gross understatement. Just as last time, not a single footstep came from the Warden. As if they glided along the floor rather than walked like mere mortals. The way the chains incorporated into their charcoal black ornate robes didn’t so much as rustle as they moved certainly didn't help them beat the spectre allegations, “Long hast the Abyss whispered of this moment,” With a commiserating hum, they circled around the lizard wizard, “Yet, I find myself blinded in surprise, only now– with thee in attendance, does it whispers that the event has come to pass… A curse of deafness upon mine ears perhaps? Or mayhaps I grew too focused upon mine duties? It matters not,” Seemingly satisfied with their observation, the being pulled away and motioned– to a door. A door that had not been there moments ago, “I welcome you, Guildmasters and Steepewalker, into mine abode. Enter, that might make myself thy kindly host.”

Muur sketched out a quick bow, murmuring a ‘thank you, Archwarden’ and strangling the corner of her brain busy lamenting being unable to bring in the scones and tea leaves she had bought specifically for her next meeting with the Warden. That done, she went right through the door, the least she could do was to be prompt.

“Thy thanks are unrequired, I am but upholding the oaths of duty I swore in taking up this station,” As Muur crossed the threshold, the Warden was almost dismissive of her thanks, “but they art welcome nevertheless. Fully glad that I am to have chosen to bear these burdens, such thy words lighten their weight by some minute measure… As for the tea thee desired to share–,” Behind the door was an ocean of chains. From where she stood at the entrance, Muur saw that they all originated from somewhere in the ceiling high above, but there were so many of them, and of so many types, that it was impossible to pinpoint where they were truly coming from. Attached to them were silks, ranging from delicate sheets connected to multiple delicate chains of precious metal, to lengths tied into ritualistic knots around heavy, brutal chain-links half the size of Muur’s thigh. Adding to that clutter were amulets, talismans and even some incense burners that gently released their fragrant smoke under the sway of a light, yet non-existent, breeze,  “–I have already seen to it that suitable refreshments would be available.”

Sure enough, after pushing through a small curtain of thin jewellery chains, Muur and the Guildmasters were greeted by a low table. A single slab of stone, rising from the floor itself and surrounded by as many luscious cushions as there were people. Just as many cups, surrounding a steaming kettle and themselves set on a large silver serving platter, were at the center of it.

“Please, seat thyselves as you ought.” With a wave of their billowing sleeves, the Warden entreated everyone to sit. A request everyone present followed without any sort of fuss. Tea time demanded courtesy after all.

Especially in someone’s place of power.

In the end, the seating arrangement saw Muur on one side of the table, the three Guildmasters across from her. While the Warden sat at the head of the table, “We thank you for your hospitality, Archwarden,” Cocobani quietly spoke from his place as the leftmost thaumaturge, “Within this box rests the reason we sought out your expertise.”

Having said his piece, he carefully laid the box down before he himself sat down.

“Thavnarian chai,” Rather than do anything like picking it up, the Warden ignored the box in favour of taking hold of the tea pot and filling up each of the cups. Starting with the Guildmasters’, “Thou shalt find this specific blend most fortifying. Yet, rather relaxing for the mind and spirit as well,” Rather than fill their own, the next cup to have the dark, rich creamy-brown tea poured into it was Muur’s. Once it was full, they moved on to the last cup, “Now that we art all served. I wouldst ask for a small boon of you, steppe walker,” but rather than wait for it to be full, the Warden minutely turned their head towards Muur, “No doubt thy have told and retold what hast taken place.  But whilst the Abyss is thick with whispers of what thee hast accomplished. I wouldst hear it from the mouth of the one at the center of it all.”

Fortification was sure what she needed, taking a long sip that would’ve scalded the tongue of anyone less used to literally burning alive before she launched into yet another retelling. This one, of course, beginning with the context of her prior visions which she had already discussed with the Guildmasters but hadn’t had a chance to talk about with the Warden yet.

The Warden listened intently to Muur’s tale. Never interrupting as the woman vented both her misadventures and her emotions. When the Au'Ra had finished her latest retelling, she noticed two things.

First, her cup was completely full. Almost like she’d never taken fortifying sips of it throughout the retelling.

Second, somewhere along the way, the Warden had pulled the talisman out of its container. It now sat on the table, right in front of the masked thaumaturge– the posture of their eyeless mask somehow conveying that they were staring at the silver feather as it slowly continued to sink into Muur’s life-saving medallion, “Hmmm. Thee hast weaved a tale the likes of which I’ve not encountered in all my years upon this land. Certainly, I see now how you could have been lured into my domain by a being still fully bound, or why the Abyss’s currents have become most… agitated in recent days.”

Picking up the talisman with three delicately armoured fingers, they slowly rolled it along their knuckles until it was wedged between their index and middle finger, “Tell me young one. Dost thee know what this is?”

“Not a clue, beyond the fact it is somehow doing its job of keeping my aether stable even better now.” Muur replied instantly and honestly.

(Not so) mild panic erupted across the face of every Guildmaster present. Clearly, none of them had managed to divine that the artifact was having such an effect on Muur. In the same way, all seemed less than enthused to hear such a thing…, “Does it now?” Even so, they held their tongue, allowing the Warden to continue speaking like they had no care for what they thought, “I wouldst entreat thee to have care with such beliefs. As a traveller, doubtlessly thee hast encountered things ‘Too good to be true’ nay?”

Muur’s grimace said it all, really, “Yeah, taking it as a simple upgrade is a quick way to have it eat me alive or make me blow up at the worst possible time, since it’s affecting the stability of my aether.” 

“Quite. Yet, the item’s nature is… harmless,” Because instead of continuing down that route, the Warden changed gears, “Wouldst thee rather an explanation omitting naught, or one that would spare thee the more complex aspects?”

“At length, please.” Muur replied immediately. “It is something interfacing with my soul, after all.”