Wall o'text inbound. The rest is up to Mask, I think.
Beef frowned, confused. "I thought I was meant to be looking for this Fallen thingie person?" he said.
"That was my initial plan, but there have been... complications," Tarmid told him as he ran his hands over a strange machine filled with some kind of green gemstone. Red veins running through the stone shifted unpredictably, though Beef got the feeling there was a rhythm to it that he just couldn't see. "I do not expect you to have any in depth knowledge on this subject," Tarmid continued, "but this is a bloodstone array, used to detect, among other things, vampires. One approaching our fortress should have been detected miles away, but the one here-" he pointed to a place where several red veins were converging "-appears to have come into existence right in the middle of Demongate! I would not have believed it possible had I not seen it myself, but it leaves me with two theories; that a vampire has been shielding itself from detection through unknown methods that have recently failed it, or that someone intentionally infected themselves for some mad reason. Your new task is to track down the abomination and ensure it does not escape. Taking them alive would be slightly more preferable, but not so much so that you should risk any lives to do so. You may use your squad; consider it Guardian business."
"And then I get to go back to looking for our friend, right?" Beef asked sourly.
"Of course. If you are so eager for a rest, you may be encouraged that I have a feeling that our fugitive is linked to this sudden appearance in some way. Fallen Angel often seems to be a the centre of the more unpredictable aspects of life here," Tarmid said, handing Beef a small box. Beneath a glass window glittered the same green gemstone as in the strange machine. "This may lack some of the finesse of its larger counterpart, but it is useful for locating the cursed at close quarters," Tarmid explained. "Your target should be in the direction with the most red, simply put."
Beef considered arguing for a moment, then sighed and nodded instead. The sooner he could get this over with, the sooner he'd be able to confiscate some more contraband for very close inspection later on.
*
Beef wasn't sure how nine people could make as much noise as his recruits were. The clanging of the steel chains Tarmid had given him didn't even seem like the loudest part, he was certain that Sibrek could drown out a stampede of elephants with the noise of his breathing. Beef sighed as they climbed the stairs, hoping that their enemy was deaf, or had buried their head under a pile of rocks. It would have been so much easier a few short years ago. The baron would have been leading the charge, and everyone involved would have had enough experience to hold their weapons the right way up. Now, though... Beef looked at his squad of 'warriors' and saw nine barely trained recruits. Sibrek was trying -and failing- to look calm, Rith had the grin of someone stupid enough to be looking forward to their first real battle, and Bomrek seemed to be looking for a way to flee. They would have to do, though.
A chill of panic rushed through Beef as the bloodstone compass levelled off as they were climbing past the sleeping area, before he realised it was pointing not towards the living quarters, but at the graves. Beef shook the compass, wondering what a vampire would want with lifeless bodies, but the red blob didn't change direction. He silently beckoned his squad to follow him.
The tombs were as cold as ever. Here and there dried out flowers rested on the nameplates of dwarves with still living families, but for the most part they were bare; relics of those who lived and died alone, or whose relatives had died with them. Beef shook his head sadly. How long had it been since he'd visited Besmar and Vucar? There was worse waiting around the corner than those who had simply been forgotten, though. Some of the coffins had been broken into. A few had had their shattered lids replaced and repaired, but most lay empty, shards of stone all that was left of their name and history. Beef looked around, seeing the rage on the faces of his squad and holding up a hand to remind them the stay quiet. He glanced again at the box. The red dot was pointing back the way they had come. No one could have passed them, so it had to mean they needed to go deeper into the spiralling catacombs. They rounded the final corner, every step as loud as a thunderstorm in the musty gloom of the oldest graves. The glow from Tarmid's box was brighter than ever, pointing at the very end of the hallway, towards a pile of bones heaped against the wall. Beef crept towards them, wincing as the recruits followed him with their impression of silence. They bones didn't seem to be anything special. Some of them were broken, and they weren't in any order, as though someone had just thrown them out to make room for something... Beef glanced at the tomb beside him. Its lid had been clumsily replaced, as though someone had tried to pull it back up while lying inside the coffin. He pointed and thanked the gods when his squad seemed to understand.
Beef handed one of the chains to Rith, taking positions at the head and feet of the tomb. Sibrek and Bomrek crept to the sides, and Beef held up three fingers. Two fingers... One... Sibrek and Bomek heaved, slowly raising the lid. Beneath, propped on his elbows, the vampire was reading a book. It glanced up curiously.
"Drop it!" Beef shouted, and the lid crashed back down. The chains clanged disappointingly quietly as they bound the tomb shut, trapping the creature inside.
"Hey," it shouted indignantly, banging on the walls of the coffin. "This isn't funny, guys!"
"Get Tarmid. Now," Beef told Rith, taking out his spear. If the bloodsucker managed to break the stone from the inside somehow, it wouldn't be getting away without a few new holes.
*
Rith had never been the most athletic of dwarves. She hated running and had only joined the militia because it seemed marginally better than spending her days harvesting crops. But she ran now. The world had contracted to the sound of her breath, gasping in and out, and Tarmid's office. Everything else had become nothing more than obstacles to be avoided. In the back of her mind, she registered an indignant shout as she dashed in front of someone carrying a sock, but she had already rounded the corner. Tarmid's door was closed, with someone from the other Hellguard standing in front of hit. He looked at Rith with some concern as she doubled over in front of him, trying to get her breath back.
"...Tarmid?" she gasped.
"He's visiting the prisoner at the minute," the guard said. "I don't think he'll be too long, you can wait here if you want!" he called after her as she dashed away again.
*
"I take it you have finished the book by now?" Tarmid said as he walked into the cell.
"That's what you wanted to ask? No, I've been much to busy counting the cracks in the ceiling to read," Thane answered, sitting up on the bed. She'd gone through it twice and still had the time to try get her second sight under control... and discover that there were forty two cracks in the ceiling.
Tarmid gave her his Unamused Teacher Stare for a moment, then continued, "Did anything in it strike you as important?"
Thane thought for a moment. "Nothing in particular," she eventually decided. "I'd like to find out more about whoever the first loremaster was, though. There's something... off about them."
"There is not that much known about the first loremaster, to be honest," Tarmid told her. "As far as we can tell, they were nearly single handedly responsible for compiling our original archives, so anything that they did not feel worthy of note is very difficult to find. Ironically, most of the information on the first loremaster seems to fall into that category. She certainly seems to have been zealous about keeping our minds untainted by darkness, though."
Thane snorted. "That's one way of putting it. You didn't come here for a book review, though. What's so important that you have to interrupt my busy schedule?"
"It is about the trial," he answered. "A few discrepancies have been appearing, so I thought I should ask you if you know anything about the location of Fallen Angel's body?"
"It was outside my cell chanting at me a few days ago," Thane shrugged. Tarmid nodded as though he'd expected as much. He reached into a pocket, pulling out something that Thane vaguely recognised.
"You my remember that this is a thaumometer, used to measure magical energy," he said as he fiddled with some dials on the side of the device. "To be honest, most of the crimes you are being accused of seem to be falling apart in front of us, but Brenzen will still feel bound to see you dead if you are found to be practising sorcery. I would like to verify that you are not before I waste my time trying to keep you alive, so may I?"
Thane sighed, standing up. Tarmid passed the thaumometer through the air in front of her, then frowned. He adjusted the device again, the swiped it in front of Thane again.
"Zero?" he muttered. "That does not make sense..."
"Why not?" Thane asked.
Tarmid glanced up at her, apparently shocked to remember that there was someone else in the room to distract him from his mystery. "Well, er... As long as something is alive, it will give off trace amounts of magical energy, somewhere in the region of point two up to point seven thaums. The undead give off significantly more energy, as they are sustained only by sorcery rather than anything physical. A reading of zero in something capable of moving around is unheard of to the best of my knowledge."
"Wasn't one of your Saints meant to be able to kill magic or something?" Thane asked.
Tarmid rubbed his chin, thinking. "Saint Emdief, yes," he agreed. "I suppose I could argue that this counts as precedent, though I would hope that you will agree to further study of your abilities at a later point."
Thane opened her mouth to agree, then the door burst open. One of the recruits Brenzen had added to the militia tumbled inside, gasping for air.
"Beef said..." she choked out. "Tarmid... Tombs!"
"I am sorry, I must have misunderstood you," Tarmid said politely.
"In the old tombs," Rith tried again. "Beef said you had to go there."
"Ah," Tarmid nodded, turning back to Thane. "I am afraid you will have to excuse me, something urgent has come up."
The door swept shut as Tarmid strode quickly towards the stairs. Thane sat back down on her bed, idly watching the threads of magic that ran through the fortress. She still couldn't understand what any of them actually did, although she had decided that the red and black ones should probably be left alone.
"Um," said a voice behind her. Thane looked over, slipping back into the physical world. It felt strange, like crossing your eyes and being turned upside down. The recruit was back on her feet, staring sadly at the door.
"The guards will be patrolling in an hour or so," Thane told her.
The girl nodded, sitting on the floor. Thane sighed. They were going to have to talk now, she supposed.
*
"Thane Levi, you have been accused of sorcery, murder, attempted murder and assault," Brenzen intoned. "How do you plead?"
Five dwarves were seated at a table in front of her, Brenzen and Tarmid among them. She recognised the doctor who had given her a crutch one as well. The others were just faces from the crowd. Was this the new Evening Prayer Group, or something else entirely? Thane supposed it didn't really matter.
"Innocent, if we're not counting goblins and criminals," she answered. Tarmid's quill scratched as he wrote the response down.
"And was Fallen Angel a criminal?" Brenzen asked pointedly.
"If you don't think he's a criminal, you should. But I didn't kill him."
"Can you prove that?" the doctor cut in.
"Of course not," Thane exclaimed. "I've been locked up for the past week! I bet that you can't even prove he's dead, though."
"Because you hid the body!" one of the unknown dwarves shouted triumphantly. Tarmid coughed quietly.
"In fact, myself and Brenzen took Thane into custody immediately after her alleged display of sorcery," he said. "When we went back to entomb the body, it had vanished. I sent one of the Hellguard squads out to search for it, and can testify that Fallen Angel is not dead, even if he is not quite alive either."
Brenzen stared at the scribe for a moment, then nodded sharply. "Very well. What of the displays of magic we both witnessed on that day?"
"Well, according to your testimony, the last person you remember speaking to you was Fallen Angel himself, not Thane. It also seems odd that she would ask you to accompany her to a place, only to bewitch you into leaving it. In any case, I took the liberty of reading her with my thaumometer and I am certain that Thane is incapable of using magic. Whatever it was that threw you across the room will have to be investigated, but she could not have done it on her own."
"Very well," Brenzen said. "Unless there are any objections, you're free to go," he told Thane. "Anything that was confiscated from you is under guard in Tarmid's office. He will be there to give them back as soon as we finish our next order of business."
Thane glanced around, then walked towards the door. Someone had certainly been pulling strings, or the trial would have been a lot messier, she knew. Did the scribe want something from her, or did he trust her? She'd find out soon enough. She looked over her shoulder as the door swung shut.
"Yesterday, a reading appeared on my bloodstone array in the centre of Demongate, which should be impossible," Tarmid was saying. She caught a glimpse of Beef and one of his recruits carrying what looked like a coffin into the room before the crack closed with a click.
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Topic: Demongate: Wrapping up the Loose Ends. (Read 698453 times)