Jak Koke: The Edge of Chaos

Slanya approached the door, acutely aware of the empty hall. She lingered for a moment, silent and listening. All her life she’d had the ability to be quiet and unobserved. As a child, before … before the accident with her aunt that had left her an orphan, she’d honed the skill to be present without being noticed. Drawing attention often led to pain.

From the other side of the heavy wooden door, Gregor spoke again. “I am committed to the well-being of all pilgrims to the Plaguewrought Land who seek exposure to spellplague.”

“Yes. Yes, of course,” said the other. “We also have our ideals-similar to yours, in fact. Do you think you can help?”

“Perhaps if you gave me more details about the ritual-” Gregor began.

“The ritual is vast and complex,” Vraith said. “And I am not about to reveal the secrets of it. However, I can tell you that the key component involves weaving the life threads of sentient creatures together and igniting this new pattern with spellplague from the border veil.

“The pilgrims I use are volunteers, of course, and selected based on their health and vigor. The ritual magic weaves the threads of their souls into a combined entity-a tapestry that matches the mesh of the border veil. So far, none of the volunteers have survived long enough to finish the weave.

“Brother Gregor, our plan requires that these volunteers survive this ordeal. I’ve heard rumors that you are passing out a potion to pilgrims seeking exposure to the blue fire. These rumors say the potion guarantees their survival.”

“Well, the elixir doesn’t guarantee anyone will survive.” Slanya could hear the excitement in Gregor’s voice. “But pilgrims do survive exposure longer. I can show you my charts if you’d like. The results of my latest trials have been phenomenal.”

“No, that won’t be necessary. I’ll trust you.” Vraith’s voice grew smooth. “So how can we obtain some of this magic elixir?”

“This ritual of yours,” Gregor asked, “it doesn’t kill the pilgrims, does it?”

“No, no. Although during the ritual, the volunteers’ exposure to the blue fire is prolonged. If they can survive that, they can survive the ritual.”

“And,” Gregor continued, “the purpose of this ritual is …?”

“Imagine being able to create barriers to the plaguelands,” Vraith said. “Imagine if we could replicate something like the border veil anywhere we wanted. We could contain the storms and the outbreaks …” Her voice trailed off, and there was a scuffling of feet from the room beyond.

Slanya’s eyes had adjusted, and the corridor was much brighter now. She felt more conspicuous, more vulnerable in the open hallway. If somebody were to come in …

Calm down, she told herself. Breathe. She took a moment to center herself, anchor her body and mind together.

“You make a powerful argument,” Gregor said.

“Excellent! If this next ritual proves successful,” Vraith said, “we will need thousands more doses. The festival is a few days away. Can you provide that many?”

The festival? Slanya considered for a moment. Vraith must be referring to the Festival of Blue Fire. Thousands of pilgrims were gathering in and around Ormpetarr that tenday to participate. It was one of the reasons the numbers of sick and dead had increased.

Gregor said, “I will need more reagents to produce that much. But I’m already working on getting more.”

“How long will it take?” Vraith’s benevolent tone gave way to one of commanding urgency. “If the next test works, I’ll want the elixir ready to distribute.”

“Several days at least,” Gregor said. “One of the ingredients is very difficult to acquire.”

“Get started right away. This is critical.” The sharpness in Vraith’s voice made Slanya wince.

When Gregor spoke again, there was a warning in his tone. “Let me do my job and you do yours. I am provisionally committed, because this ritual of yours seems to be the key to containing spellplague. That is a worthy goal, and one which can make a profound change in the world. But do not take that tone again with me. I do not take orders from you.”

“Can you create more elixir or not?”

Gregor paused. “Yes, I don’t expect it to be a problem.”

Vraith’s tone was back to sweet and peaceful, “Perfect. I’ll let you get to it then.”

Abruptly there were footsteps and the sounds of movement. They were headed this way, toward the door where Slanya was standing. Getting closer.

Slanya’s heart shot into her throat, and in her panic she missed the next part of the conversation. She was about to be discovered, and the punishment would no doubt be the switch across her back. Memories threatened to overwhelm her.

Stop it, she told herself. There were no punishments like that in the monastery. That fear came from a long-ago life she hardly remembered. That was in a past that could never hurt her again.

And with that thought, some of the adrenaline fog lifted. She focused and relaxed her breathing, calmed her heart. And she knew what to do.

She knocked on the door. After all, she had been summoned. She was supposed to be on the way.

The door opened almost immediately, revealing Gregor with his silver-dusted black hair and neatly trimmed beard. A patch over his left ear where, his spellscar had bleached his hair and skull to the pale, milky blue color of moonstone lay bare.

Gregor gave Slanya a warm smile, “Ah, Sister Slanya, prompt as usual. Thank you for coming.”

Slanya’s heart warmed slightly at the sight of Gregor’s pleasure with her, and then she became aware of how irrational her response to Gregor was. She wanted to please him; she had held a special affinity for him ever since he’d saved her; he’d judged her and found her worthy. She knew that her reaction was less than objective, but it didn’t hurt anyone but herself.

“I am just escorting our guests here, including Commander Accordant Vraith of the Order of Blue Fire, to the gates.”

Gregor indicated a diminutive elf woman holding a wooden box, who radiated power and confidence. “Just ‘Vraith’ is fine,” she said with a slight nod.

Gregor continued, “Our business has concluded. Please walk with us.”

Slanya stood to the side as Gregor and Vraith stepped into the hallway, followed by four others who apparently did not merit introduction. Vraith wore sky-blue wizard’s robes, which shimmered in the dim light, the embroidered Order symbol of a flaming blue iris glittering on her heart. Her blonde hair was cropped short in back and straight across her brow in front, giving her an angular look.

Two of the four others, well-muscled human men in plate armor displaying the Order symbol on their chests, flanked Vraith and walked just slightly behind her. Trailing in the rear was a dwarf woman with curly red hair and glowering eyes under bushy red brows. She sported pale blue clerical robes, a faded copy of those worn by Vraith, bound at the waist by a white rope.

Next to the dwarf walked a genasi woman, wearing the bright robes of a wizard, which served to accentuate the aquamarine color of her skin. The genasi looked to be a mage to Slanya’s eyes, and considering the hydra-shaped spellscar that seemed to drip like a liquid crystal stain over her left ear, she was bound to be quite a dangerous one.

Slanya brought up the rear, grateful that her anxiety hadn’t been noticed. She would wait until she was called upon. Following Gregor and Vraith out into the late afternoon heat of the monastery courtyard, Slanya listened as their conversation shifted from business to superficiality.

“Your orders have accomplished a great deal in the short time you’ve been here,” Vraith said. “You’ve built the bulk of your temple in such a short time. It’s most impressive.”