Once Forgotten 2.5

Rya followed Brint in silence, the events of the previous day fresh in her mind. "How do you learn control?"

Brint, caught off guard by her sudden question, frowned. "I don't really know. You always did have a temper." He chuckled. "I remember you throwing tantrums many times because you got caught. We used to roam the palace, torturing the servants. We made one girl cry several times. But whenever you threw one of your fits, don't you remember what your mother used to say?"

Rya nodded. "Vaguely. She would tell me to take a deep breath, let the anger flow through me, then let it go." She hung her head, her hair covering her eyes. "And when she and father were killed, Kurel was so calm. I asked her how she did it. She said that she was following our mother's footsteps. But…"

Brint nodded. "You couldn't let go." Rya nodded. "You need to let go of the past. Kadrin even told you that. We must be focused upon what's happening now. Especially now. If a M'rachtkenta were to enter the Realm, we cannot afford to be distracted."

"I'm not afraid to fight. I just…I never thought that I would be off doing what we are. We grew up hearing the tales of old, and here we are living in one. To think that we are trying to awaken the G'yckma." Rya said.

"G'yckma? I thought it was magyck." Brint said.

Rya nodded. "They are one and the same. What we call magyck, is actually the Will of Nadarin."

Brint frowned. "Nadarin's Will? What are you talking about?"

"I've been reading a direct translation of the original Book of the Damned. Brint, Nadarin is more important than you realize. The role he plays, the balancing, is all more important than we've been taught. He may even be more important than the other Gods!" She paused. "Awakening magyck, the G'yckma, is far more important than just saving the Realm."

"Howso? I mean, can't the other Gods and Goddesses do something?" Brint asked.

Rya shook her head. "No. If they were to interfere, they would tip the balance further. And a demon far worse than anything we know will be set free."

"Wait, are you talking about The Father? You aren't suggesting that that old fable is true, are you? I mean, two High Gods, The Mother and The Father, created all of this?" Brint scoffed.

"No, The Mother created this plane. She created it as a means for us to be safe, but The Father's influence was too powerful. It seeped into our realm. So Nadarin created his own will to counteract it. The result was magyck. The G'yckma seeped into us, into everything. And it gave us power like Nadarin's. He gave the elements their power. His brother's and sister's helped to guide it, but he was in full control. The reason he didn't guide and watch over it himself is because he had to watch over all three planes. Alphairria, Xophaltez, Thyinairinn, he balances them all. Without that balance, The Father will grow too strong for The Mother to contain. That's all she can do, sustain the Seals, the Realm, and her children." Rya said.

Brint shrugged. "I suppose there could be some truth in all of that, but I'm not going to just start believing in all of that. I believe in the Gods and magyck and that's it."

Rya sighed. "There is more to this than that, Brint. We need to restore Nadarin to his rightful place."

Brint stopped short and laughed. "What?! Now you're saying we have to restore a God? He's a God, Rya! By the powers of Alphairria, how are we even going to dream of that? How can mere mortals such as us even hope to help a God, as you say we are, let alone restore one?!"

Rya shook her head. "I don't know! I don't even really understand what I'm talking about!" She took several steadying breaths. "I just…I just know that we have to do this." She closed her eyes. "It all has to do with the Tower."

Brint nodded. "Perhaps you're right. If that Tower can see away magyck, who knows what else it can do?"

"Nadarin." Rya whispered.

Brint sighed. "Come on. We need to get moving if we hope to reach my camp before noon."

They walked the rest of their journey in silence, Rya still trying to sort out her thoughts. A rough voice called out. "Halt! Who goes there?"

"Geric, you old cheseek! How goes our efforts?" Brint called out.

"Eleven Above! If it isn't young Brint. And who might that lovely companion of yours be?"

"I am Rya, Overseer of Wind. I have come upon request by Kadrin." She answered.

"Powers of Alphairria! An Overseer!!" There was a brief commotion and the brush on the left parted as an elderly man stepped out. He bowed respectfully. "It is an honor, mi'lady."

Rya smiled pleasantly. "There is no need for formalities."

Brint coughed. "Geric, I need an audience with the Council. Kadrin has received reports that could indicate the arrival of another M'rachtkenta."

Geric's pale face went paler. "A-a…Another one?! Maldis was bad enough! Just…Just how many are there?!"

"About nine altogether." She frowned. "Well, eight now that Maldis is out of the picture."

Geric finally got a good look at her and her scythe. "Wait…it was you! Yes, you're the one…" He turned to Brint. "She's the one…" He turned back to her. "You're the one that killed Maldis!"

She sighed. "His physical form, yes. Kadrin is the one that dispersed his spirit."

"Ah, dispersion." Geric said, almost reverently. "That's powerful magyck. Only a few can harness such power. It is said that long ago, only the Great Lords of Magyck could perform such a spell. I suppose you could too, as you are an Overseer."

Rya fell silent. Brint coughed again, and the elder turned back to him. "Geric, we really need to see the Council."

Geric nodded. "Having her with you will help tremendously. It's funny, isn't it? You helped to band us together, yet you aren't the biggest authority."

Brint shrugged. "It's what happens when you pull something like this off. Other's will always come in an wrestle away what power you had. But I'm not worried about it. I'm a follower of Kadrin more than anything."

Geric nodded. "I suppose we all are supposed to be here, but sometimes, I feel the Council has their own agenda."

"That's what worries me." Brint said. As they entered the camp, Rya gazed about with interest. She had heard so many stories about the Freedomists, and she was more than a little excited to be walking through their camp. Men and women moved about, sharpening weapons, packing and unpacking crates. Many of the crates were full of weaponry, both mundane and magical. She saw more than one bolt shooter, and she shuddered at the thought of what those could do. They harnessed lightning, able to fire single bolts of varying length. They were near limitless when it came to how long they lasted. Just a few of those could decimate an army that used swords alone. There were other types of shooters, but she didn't see any of them. Others were unpacking supplies of food, and then repacking them to be shipped off to other camps.

She had expected the camp to be large, but she wasn't quite prepared for it to be as large as it was. They stopped before a tent. The guards bared the entrance with spears. "Halt! State your business."

Geric fidgeted. "It's Brint, and an Overseer."

The guards scoffed. "An Overseer? She's but a child!" One guard said.

"I say, what? No older than twenty?" The other one laughed.

Rya sighed. "I'm holding Windcleaver, the Scythe of the Wind Overseer, isn't that proof enough?"

"Proof?" The guards laughed. "Oh, hardly! Anyone can hold a scythe and claim to be an Overseer!"

Rya glanced around. Obviously, a small demonstration was in hand. She spied a tall tree off to her right. Several men leaned on axes, about ready to cut it down. She stepped away from Brint, flicking the blade of her scythe out. People all around stopped and nudged their neighbor, curious as to what she was doing. She focused on the tree, everything else going dim. The air began to swirl about her, picking up speed. The smiles on the guards' faces began to falter as the wind began to roar. With a fearsome cry that made their blood turn cold, Rya leaped into the air. She lunged at the tree, her scythe seeming to grow in size to gigantic proportion. With another cry she swung down, the wind howling a roar. She landed nimbly on her feet, barely stirring the dirt beneath her. With a groan, the giant tree tipped onto its side and crashed to the ground. The trunk was perfectly cut, completely sliced through. With a smile and a twirl of her scythe, she turned to the guards. Several men rushed out of the building.

"Well, I believe that that is sufficient proof of who I am." Rya nodded. Brint couldn't hold back a laugh. One of the men turned to her.

"And who the Eleven Above are you?!" He said.

She curtsied politely. "I am Rya, Overseer of Wind, apprentice of Kadrin. Pleasure to meet you. I take it that you are the Council?"

The man nodded, exchanging a glance with the others behind him. "That would be us."

Brint nodded. "We've come on a direct assignment from Kadrin. We need a small squad to go with us to investigate a report of possible M'rachtkenta activity."

The Councilors again exchanged a glance. "I'm afraid that won't be possible. If we looked into every possible sighting, we wouldn't get anything accomplished."

"But that's just the thing. You wouldn't be the ones doing that. We would be." Rya stated.

"With all due respect to you and your master, but we need all the available troops in case of a real threat." The Councilor said.

"Ah, so reports of a large pestilence, a known sign of one of the Demon Lords, isn't a big enough threat?" The man was silent. "I thought so. Besides, look around you: your camp is large enough. Plus, you probably have other camps about this size as well. Correct?" Brint nodded. "So, all things considered and with all due respect, we will be needing soldiers."

The Councilors could only nod. Giving orders to the guards they retreated back. Geric shook his head. "I certainly have never seen such a thing. The girl slices down a large tree with one swing of that scythe, bosses around the Council, what's next?"

Rya scratched her back. "I think that will be all for today."

Geric nodded. "Is that so? Well, follow me. I imagine you two are somewhat hungry." They followed him, talking about the camp.
**********************************************************
Lirand was not having a good day. First, he and Gartrand searched everywhere for any information concerning the island. Second, when they finally did find the name and location of the island, they went all throughout the port trying to find passage. Thirdly, when they did find passage, Nadar took the opportunity to show up.

As he and Gartrand were talking, Nadar had plopped himself down at their table, taking a gulp from a flask he produced.

"So, how is everything going?" Nadar asked.

Gartrand shrugged. "Well enough, I suppose. We've found the name and location at least."

Lirand sighed. "And we found a captain willing to take us there."

Nadar inspected their captain. He was tall and good looking, well dressed. "Poor choice if you ask me."

"Why do you say that?" Gartrand asked.

Nadar gestured to the captain. "Judging from his appearance, I doubt he even has a ship." Nadar raised his flask. "He's dressed too properly. Plus, from the way he walks, I would have to say that he's never been on a ship before in his life!"

Gartrand nodded. "You may be on to something there." He inspected the man more closely. "Yes, I believe you are quite right." He nudged a rather irked Lirand. "Interesting how neither of us noticed."

"What do you expect? We've both been hiding within Jastire for the better part of at least two centuries. You busy with whatever it was you were doing, and I was training wizards to actually use real power." Lirand shrugged. "Of course we are a little rusty at all of this."

After this exchange, Nadar had suggested a captain to them, who once he found who they were, offered them passage without pay. However, the ship was small, and looked derelict. However, it was still better than no ship at all. They set off without trouble.
**********************************************************

Kadrin walked with a new step. He was close now. So much closer to his goal. If everything went along the lines he had worked so hard to set up….he could hardly dare to think it. All of his efforts had been working to this moment, and now it was but within reach. He turned northward.

The Northern Keep had been thought to have been abandoned long ago, but no one dared to descend to the lower levels. That was where he now turned. His footsteps tread with the weight of untold years. He was not about to fail.