War of the Animum

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War of the Animum

The Road to Ruin - Chapter Four

Darthen was hot and humid and smelled of salt. The wind that came in from the great sea was thick and wet, but Ashur didn't mind. He rather enjoyed it. Part of him yearned to hit the shore, the sandy beach, and wade into the tide. Now wasn't the time for such trivialities, but he'd always wanted to visit the coast for precisely that reason.



He never thought that the potential end of the world would bring him closer to a lifelong dream. Even if he would only see the beach in passing.



Behind him, Iblion lagged again.



Ashur frowned, pausing to let the deity catch up. Here, the crowds were less thick, turning to a different flavor, but Iblion seemed to be having trouble. The deity was paler than usual, the lines in his face deeper. He always had a taste of magic about him, too, but as of late, that felt thinner. More strained.



“Are you all right?” Ashur asked for what felt like the fifth time.



“Fine,” Iblion replied, the word bitten out, his eyes unfocused as they searched the crowd as though unable to find Ashur before wobbling his direction.



Ashur's frown deepened. Questions crowded on his tongue but he had the feeling Iblion wouldn't answer them. And it would only irritate the deity to ask if he was sure. Because Iblion certainly didn't look well.



Thank Aesir that they were nearing a collection of inns. This sort of establishment dominated the waterfront, which made sense as sailors and visitors coming in from the docks would be weary. Their first thought would be for food and rest. Ashur hoped they could find one within their meager budget, though he was sure Sleet and Beryl would be fixing that potential issue.



“We should pick an inn,” Iblion said as though trying to distract Ashur. “Alaris has given us a task after all.”



Ashur nodded. His gaze swung from one brightly colored sign to another, all of the wooden images swaying in the breeze. They had interesting names like the Siren's Call and Fisherman's Wharf and Sandy Shores. He supposed it didn't really matter though the one calling itself the Mermaid's Bosom made him chuckle. And they could all use a little hilarity right now.



Mermaid's Bosom it was.



Ashur took Iblion's elbow, trying not to frown at how thin the deity felt, though visibly his mass hadn't changed. It was as though his physical self was getting... less solid? Ashur wasn't a scientist. He didn't know what to call it.



“Are you serious?” Iblion asked.



Ashur forced a grin onto his face as they got closer to the door, merrily adorned with seashells and bits of seaweed. “You didn't indicate a preference.”



Iblion muttered something under his breath, but he didn't protest any further. Ashur pushed open the door, hinges creaking and stepped into the welcome cool of the foyer. It wasn't nearly as crowded as Ashur would have expected, with only one patron sitting in a chair while a woman stood behind the counter, flipping through a book of some kind.



“Welcome the Mermaid's Bosom,” she said with no enthusiasm, one hand dipping into a bowl of some kind of dried fruit. “Our room rates start at two copper per night with specials running by the week, should you be so inclined.”



Ashur approached the desk, though part of his attention was stolen by the décor. Poorly painted renditions of mermaids graced the walls, bright splashes of color against the dark wood. Strings of shells dipped from the ceilings like streamers and someone had strung up fishing net in the corners, other beach-themed designs hanging from them like cheap chandeliers. He'd all but tripped on the mat beneath him, woven of thick straw.



“What's the special?” Ashur asked, mentally calculating how much coin did they have. “And how many beds per room?”



The hostess finally looked up from her book, blinking bright blue eyes at them. “Two,” she answered, her gaze traveling from Ashur to Iblion and back again. “Ten copper for a week's day. Your, um, friend doesn't look well.”



Ashur glanced at Iblion, noting the beads of sweat on the deity's brow. “Iblion?”



There was a glazed look in Iblion's eyes. He stood there, not so much as blinking, and he didn't respond to Ashur's question.



He gripped Iblion's arm, the deity feeling colder and thinner than before. “Iblion!”



There was a pulse, a shock of something unpleasant against Ashur's fingers and then Iblion's legs gave way. Ashur struggled to catch the larger, heavier man as he crumpled without making a sound.



The woman behind the counter gasped as Ashur grunted, hitting the ground with Iblion's upper body more or less cradled across his knees. He pressed a hand to Iblion's forehead, feeling it flushed as though with fever, high dots of pink in the deity's cheeks. But his throat and neck and bare arms felt cool to the touch, almost like snow.



“What's wrong with him?” the woman demanded and Ashur didn't know if he should call her tone fearful or alarmed.



“I don't know,” Ashur said, groping for a lie that wouldn't frighten her further. “We're both exhausted and we've been traveling for a week. I think he just needs rest.” His heart pounded in his chest, trying to crawl from his throat. “Can we have a room?”



“Is it contagious?”



“No. It's not a sickness. I swear.” Ashur struggled for his pouch, knowing he had at least enough coin in there to cover a room for the day. Alaris would have to come back and procure more rooms for a longer period of time later. “I have coin.”



The hostess hesitated



“Please,” Ashur added, with the best begging look he could muster. It always worked on Adair.



“Of course. We welcome customers no matter how tired they are.” The man, whom Ashur thought to be a patron, had stood and now approached Ashur and Iblion. “Lynn, get the key for room three, please.”



“Yes, sir.” Now she was quick to comply, rooting beneath the desk for wherever they kept the keys. “What about-?”



The man crouched next to Ashur. “I'll get them signed in. You look as though you could use some help, son.”



Gratitude flushed through Ashur. He managed a thin smile. “Yes, sir.” It never hurt to be polite. “My uncle's a lot heavier than I am.” Did he have too much pride to play the helpless card? No, he didn't. Ashur was well aware how young he looked and if it meant they wouldn't question him too much, all the more for it.



“Your uncle, hmm?” Dark eyes turned soft with compassion.



Ashur nodded. “Yes. My aunt will be meeting us soon. And my brothers. We were supposed to get rooms while we wait to depart for Sanjara.” The lies mingled with truth, spilling faster than Ashur could keep track of them. All of those fantasy stories he'd read suddenly came into great use. “I hope nothing happens to them either.”



“Two more rooms then,” the proprietor murmured as Lynn came around the counter, handing him a key. “Luckily, we do have three available. Come on then. Let's get your uncle up.”



Together, Ashur and the proprietor managed to get Iblion off the floor. Ashur tried to bear most of the deity's weight, but between his armor, weapons, and greater bulk, it was not easy. He required more help just to get Iblion up the three stairs onto the second landing, and down the hall to room three. The proprietor helped wrangle Iblion onto the bed, the deity not so much as blinking or making a sound.



If not for the fact Ashur could hear him breathing and see his fingers occasionally twitch, he'd believe Iblion to be dead. It was unsettling.



The proprietor pressed the key into his hand. “I'll have Lynn bring up some water, for drinking and to help bring down that fever.”



“Thank you,” Ashur said and pulled out his pouch, handing over a couple silver coins. It would be enough to cover a few rooms for a few nights. He would let Alaris decide if they'd need more. “Will this do?”



“More than, son. If you need anything else, just ask for Old Hercy, all right? I'll be happy to help.” Hercy smiled, clapped him on the shoulder, and took his leave.



Well. It seemed there was some decency left in the world after all. Considering what Ashur had seen since leaving Nename, he'd begun to think saving it was a foolish venture.



He sighed and looked at Iblion. The deity still hadn't moved and his ever-present sense of power was no longer tangible. If Ashur touched his skin, he could feel it, but it no longer radiated outward. This couldn't be good.



He set to removing Iblion's boots and armors, trying to make him more comfortable. The complicated buckles and clasps just about threw him for a loop.



A knock on the door announced Lynn's arrival as she brought him a bowl, a pitcher of water, a cup, and some cloths. She wouldn't come close, however, setting the items on a table near the door and immediately excusing herself. She probably feared sickness still.



After she left, Ashur slumped into the chair by the bed, staring at Iblion. What the hell was he supposed to do? He couldn't fix this. Iblion wasn't his anima. He had no connection to the deity. And worst of all, he had no way to contact Alaris except to plunge into Darthen and look for her. He didn't dare risk leaving Iblion alone.



By Aesir, this was a mess.



Ashur drew in a ragged ventilation and dampened a cloth, placing it on Iblion's forehead. It was all he could do.



He prayed Alaris would find Sleet and then find Ashur in turn. Iblion's current condition didn't bode well for anyone.

 

o0o0o

Hephaestion's directions led them straight to the wharf and a string of inns with colorful names that made Sleet snicker and Alaris shake her head.



I am concerned, Hephaestion said. Iblion's signature has grown unstable. I can barely sense him.



Alaris frowned. 'What does that mean?'



I am afraid to contemplate.



“So which one do you think they picked?” Sleet asked, sounding far more jovial than she had ever heard the thief speak to her. “Whistling Wind? Twinkling Tides? They like alliteration around here, don't they?”



Alaris cast him an askance look. “I find myself surprised that you know what alliteration is.”



“My mother's a teacher, or didn't she mention that?” Sleet raised a brow at her before shrugging. “There's a lot about me you don't know. I can't decide if I should take that personal or not.”



Damn. He was being almost pleasant. She didn't know what had caused his change of heart and hoped it would stick around. Or that he wasn't trying some new game.



'Can you tell which building he is in?' Alaris asked, ignoring the question of Sleet for now. There were other matters of more importance.



There is a sense of frustration and disappointment. No. I cannot. Perhaps if I joined you on the mortal plane, I might be able to pinpoint his location.



“Sleet, can you see somewhere private where Hephaestion can put in an appearance?” Alaris asked, already glancing around her to find an alley or something similar. But the buildings pressed so closely together, wall to wall, that there were none to be found.



There was no answer.



Alaris chewed on her bottom lip to keep from growling aloud. Sleet had vanished yet again. This was an irritating habit of his. If she thought it would do her any good, she'd reprimand him for it. But what was the point?



She rubbed her forehead. Nothing to do now but search inn by inn. There was only, what, seven in immediate sight. How many more could there be? Better start at the beginning.



Hephaestion remained silent, bound by his own inability to search.



Alaris inquired at first Fisherman's Wharf and Siren's Song, receiving a negative each time. Iblion was distinctive enough that he would be recognized. Ashur, unfortunately, could blend into a crowd. Her frustration grew.



But it wasn't until she stepped out of the Twinkling Tides that she heard someone shout her name. It was Sleet, waving at her from across the way, barely seen amid the crowd of people.



“Where have you been?” she demanded.



“Looking for Ashur,” the thief retorted with a frown. “Isn't that why we're here. I found him, by the way. No need to thank me.”



“Lead the way,” Alaris said with a gesture. Which was worse, she wondered. The waspish comments or the sullen disregard?



Sleet whirled on a heel and headed straight for the Mermaid's Bosom, holding open the door and gesturing her inside. It was not the place that would have been Alaris' first choice or second or third, but as long as it was comfortable, she would not complain.



“And just so you know,” Sleet continued, keeping his voice oddly soft. “You're Ashur's aunt, I'm his brother and so is Beryl.”



Alaris blinked. “What?”



“Just go with it. I'll explain later.” Sleet planted a smile on his face, directing it toward the young woman behind the counter. “I found her. What room number was it again?”



“Three,” she answered without looking up from her book. “You and your brother will be in room four. Don't lose our key, either.”



“I would never,” Sleet replied, far too cheerfully, and urged Alaris up the three stairs into another hallway. “Lies aside, there's worse news.”



“What could be worse?” Alaris demanded as Sleet stopped in front of room number three and turned the knob, again gesturing her ahead of him.



“That,” he said, and tilted his head toward the room's interior.



Alaris stepped inside, seeing first Ashur perched in a chair and second, Iblion lying on the bed, a washcloth draped over his forehead. Was he ill?



The door closed behind her, Sleet entering as well. Seconds later, Hephaestion phased into existence, his magical energy radiating dismay.



“It is as I feared,” he said, approaching the bed as Ashur scooted back from it, chair legs scraping across the floor.



“What's happened to him?” Alaris crossed the floor, pressing the back of one hand to Iblion's forehead as her other hand tested his wrist for his pulse. She was alarmed by the heat of his head, but the chill of his hand.



Hephaestion's frown deepened. “His tether is fading. The thin connection with Ashur is not enough. He needs to return to Elysium.”



“Then send him back. We don't have to keep him here,” Ashur said, face pinched with worry, the paleness in his cheeks matching Iblion's.



Hephaestion shook his head. “I cannot. That requires conscious will.”



“You can't wake him up?” Alaris asked. It was unsettling how still Iblion was, and the usually present sense of magic around him was gone. She couldn't sense him despite standing right next to him. No wonder Hephaestion couldn't identify which Inn they had chosen.



“No. It is not within my ability. I am not of the first tier.”



Ashur's hands wrung together. “Will he die?”



Hephaestion lowered his head. “I do not know. This is unprecedented.”



“What if Adair were here?” Alaris demanded, releasing her hold on Iblion. “Would that help?”



“Perhaps.” Hephaestion's frown turned contemplative. “The active bond required an exchange of energies, you could call them. While Adair would have drawn on Iblion's power to increase his own, Iblion would have drawn on Adair as a connection to the mortal plane.”



Alaris nodded slowly, an idea forming. “Then we need to get Adair back. Soon.” Because if they did not, Iblion would probably perish and whether that would result in mass destruction or not, Alaris didn't know.



She only knew that they were outnumbered and outmatched and she couldn't afford to lose Iblion.



She turned to Sleet. “Beryl hasn't returned and it seems as though we will need his assistance. Can you find him for me?”



The thief furrowed his brow. “What do you think he can do that you can't?”



“Find Frost.”



Ashur scoffed. “He's with us because he's looking for Frost. What makes you think it's any different now? And why can't you find Frost? He seems to have no problems finding us.”



“And even if you could find him, we're not exactly in a position to take him down,” Sleet continued, a touch of fear in his voice which was not unexpected. “Especially since Raven and the others are on the other side of Lieve!”



Alaris held up a hand, forestalling their arguments. “I'm not denying any of what you're saying. But we'll cross those bridges when we get to them. Right now, getting Beryl here is the first step.”



“What? You think we thieves have some special in-built detector for each other or something?” Sleet demanded, folding his arms.



Asherah save her from stubborn idiots!



“No,” Alaris said with far more patience than she possessed. “But you do know where thieves are apt to go. Start there. Erebus can keep in contact with Hephaestion should we need you to return sooner. Understand?”



If there was ever a time that Sleet chose to obey, now would be it. Alaris prayed that the thief would give in. They didn't have time to argue.



Sleet's eyes narrowed. “Fine,” he spat, stomping with all the noise a man his size could muster. “But this is the last time I play fetch for you.”



The door slammed shut behind him.



“Alaris, we cannot defeat Balaam in our current state,” Hephaestion said.



She briefly closed her eyes, inhaling and exhaling. “I know,” she said, and opened them again, gathering her control. “But we do have something he wants. And maybe that will be enough.”



“Something he... you mean Sleet?” Ashur said, shooting to his feet with a startled look on his face. “You think he'll agree to some kind of trade?”



Hephaestion frowned. “I must agree with Ashur. Why would Balaam return Adair to us knowing that it will only strengthen us?”



“Because he hasn't taken Sleet yet,” Alaris said, and she rubbed her forehead, beginning to pace. “He's had countless opportunities but something prevents him from doing so. I can't pretend to understand what. Perhaps something to do with the disconnect between Frost and Balaam.”



Quiet rippled through the room.



To her surprise, however, it was Ashur who offered a tentative agreement, despite his earlier shock. “You might be right,” he said, though he still looked uneasy. “Beryl said something to the same effect.”



“Beryl?” Alaris' eyes widened. Her mind began racing with theories. Was Beryl working with Frost despite his claims otherwise? Did he know something they didn't?



Ashur's hands twisted together again and he looked away. “He, um, talked to me. In the forest. He acted casual but it felt like it had a purpose.”



Alaris remembered then, how Tungsten had come to her, saying that Beryl was acting odd. She'd dismissed his concerns at the time because the two thieves were always behaving oddly and that was nothing new. But if Beryl had already presented such an idea to Adair, then perhaps this had been Frost's intent all along.



“Alaris, you cannot be seriously considering--”



“I am,” she said and met her anima's gaze. “Sleet has been rebellious at best. I wake everyday expecting that he's gone. But if we can get Adair back, then we have an animus that is willing to work with us.”



“But you give Balaam one that will increase his power.”



Alaris folded her arms. “I'm not so sure. Balaam is not looking for a partnership. He's looking to take all of your abilities. Sleet would be a crutch to him. And don't forget, if we don't have Sleet, then Balaam won't be paying as much attention to us.”



Hephaestion made a noncommittal noise. “You may have a point,” he said at length. “But there is one matter you haven't taken into consideration.”



“What?”



“Balaam needs Erebus,” Hephaestion said.



Alaris blinked. “What do you mean?”



The deity sighed, hand tightening around his staff. “Sleet, as an animus, released his essence. But he needs an anima to release the bindings on his form.”



“The reason he took Adair in the first place,” Ashur realized aloud.



“Perhaps,” Hephaestion conceded. “As I said before, Iblion remaining on this plane is unprecedented. Balaam could not have known that Iblion would not return to Elysium. He would have counted on it, meaning Iblion then would have been drawn to Adair. After that, coercion would have only taken a matter of time.”



It was all starting to make a perilous sort of sense. Which was not reassuring at all to Alaris. She huffed frustration. She didn't like how the deities kept giving them information only when it suited and not before. What else did she need to know that they hadn't deigned to tell her?



“You couldn't have mentioned this before?”



Hephaestion shifted. “It had not seemed relevant at the time.”



“Not relevant!” Alaris was ready to spit fire.



“So I guess it boils down to a choice?” Ashur asked, his voice soft but his gaze shifting to Iblion. “We let Iblion die or dissipate or whatever it is. Or we give Sleet to Balaam in the hope that Sleet won't betray us by helping Balaam free himself?”



Alaris forced herself not to glare at her anima, though it was a near thing. It felt like a betrayal, the secrets he kept from her. Weren't they supposed to be in a partnership?



“It's not much of a choice,” Ashur added, hunching his shoulders.



“No, it isn't.” Alaris stepped across the floor, getting close enough to Hephaestion that he could sense her anger and her dismay. “You will tell us everything. Right now.”



Deities didn't squirm. Hephaestion returned her gaze evenly, without a flinch, but there was something in his look that spoke of betrayal on its own.



“Everything is a tall order,” he said.



Alaris inclined her head. “Then lucky we have some time before Sleet returns. Especially since he can't know what we intend.”



Ashur made a small noise, but didn't speak up. Alaris didn't look at him, reserving her attention for her animus, refusing to back down.



Finally, Hephaestion nodded. “Very well. I will tell you what I can.”



It was about time.

 

o0o0o

Irritation crawled up his spine and sat on his shoulders like a gargoyle, talons digging into his collar fairing. Sleet scowled to himself as he stomped out of the Mermaid's Bosom and stepped into a mid-afternoon wet with salt and sea.



He had no idea where to begin looking for Beryl. He'd never been to Darthen before, had only heard rumors that there was a guild here, but Sleet wasn't a member. He wouldn't know how to begin becoming one. It had been on his to-ask list with Frost but obviously, they'd never gotten that far.



Just like damn Kurnugia.



Of course, he assumed starting in the shopping district was as good a place as any to check. If Beryl was out there lightening pockets, what better place to be than where the coin was? But finding one green-eyed blond in a sea of people could take hours. Beryl was more likely to find them first.



This was pointless.



Sleet.



He ignored Erebus. Something was itching at the base of his spine. There was a pressure in his chest.



He looked toward the docks. A few ships were coming in to port. Perhaps one of them was carrying their animus.



Sleet turned down the boardwalk, feet taking him to the line of docks that edged the shore. The smell of salt was thicker here, on his tongue and the back of his throat. He inhaled, enjoying the clean scent of it. He could do without the humidity, but the cool breeze was nice. Lieve's strange weather patterns hadn't hit Darthen yet.



Though judging by the darkness on the horizon, it might be on its way.



At the pier, numerous boats were docked, their sails an array of colors that were almost painful to look at. Some were splashed with symbols, identifying companies, or others had dizzying designs on them. A few captains had chosen to keep their sails plain, but they were few and far between. It was noisier here on the docks, people shouting at each other as cargo was either carried off or loaded on and people were much the same.



Sleet had no clue where to begin in the search for an animus. 'Can you sense them like the others or am I out of luck?'



Not at a distance, Erebus admitted, his tone oddly subdued. But close enough, yes, I can identify someone with an animum bond.



Well, it was better than nothing.



Sleet wandered, slipping easily in and out of the crowd, catching snatches of conversation but nothing important. Whether he found Beryl or the animus, he supposed it didn't matter. That tingle in his spine had increased anew and now his chest had begun to itch. He scratched at it idly, a frown on his lips.



The crowd thinned as he headed further down the pier, toward docks that hadn't been used yet. Sleet hadn't seen an ocean before and he was fascinated by the endless horizon. The water seemed to stretch into eternity.



He walked the length of one, staring down into the deep water. He could see a few fish and stray sands of seaweed, but he couldn't see the bottom. He wondered how cold it was.



The dark cloud on the horizon was getting closer. The wind picked up, or maybe that was just because he was standing on the end of a pier. It was much quieter here, save for the noisy birds above him, grey and white, with orange beaks. The wood creaked and groaned as the water lapped at the moorings.



It was a bit unsettling, actually. Sleet could swim, but he'd never been on a boat or a ship. Having never seen an ocean, this shouldn't come as a surprise.



He wouldn't find the animus here, on an unoccupied pier, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he would find something. Whatever it was that made his spine tingle and his chest ache. Something poured over his skin, an invisible fall of heat as the back of his neck prickled.



He wasn't alone.



Sleet turned around and there was Frost, smirking, his arms folded across his chest. And there was something in his look, something in the air, that made Sleet believe this time would be different.



Erebus had gone silent.

****

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