Horizons of the Heart

By Melange
Copyright © 2013 Melange
All Rights Reserved.

Synopsis

While carrying out their cunning plan to "let's split up", the group of adventurers find themselves in a bit of a situation. When dealing with disreputable death cults, things have a way of going sideways.

Flashback: Stann reflects on his life in his clan homestead

Since there are many characters introduced in the first chapters, please visit the “who’s who” page to read about the main faces:
Who's who in Horizons of the Heart

STANN

It would be a glorious day. The sky had barely any clouds, and despite the thick snow covering the roofs and streets of the town, it was cosy and warm indoors. The fireplaces burned cheerfully and made the bed almost too warm with the thick pelt cover.

He sat by the bed, still not dressed. He ran a hand over the pelt. He had felled that bear with his own hands when he was barely old enough to join the hunting party. His arms were strong, and the spear was sharp. That was the day he earned the nickname ‘Bear’ with his friends. It was years later when he let the shaman tattoo the animal on his right arm, a powerful totem to protect him in the battles to come.

He wasn’t alone in the bed. Yesterday had been full of revelry when their betrothal was announced. The Winterheart clan never needed much cause to throw a celebration, but if the cause was just they went the extra mile. That was almost a proverb to them.

Her flaxen hair spilled over creamy shoulders. She would make a fine wife come spring, and even if he was as far removed from the crown as a clansman could be, any marriage between the Winterhearts and the Ravenwings would serve both clans well.

She stirred a little as he rose to his feet, rolling over to feel the warmth still left behind by his body. Would he be teaching their sons to hunt bears?

He lifted the thick curtain and looked out across the commons. People were already going about their daily chores. He sighed happily. He had until midday to relax before meeting the rest of the warriors. His uncle would be talking about the plans for the summer campaign.

A tall and strong man passed by his window, carrying a fishing pole. Upon seeing Stann he waved and let out a deep, rumbling laugh.

“Good morning to you too, cousin! Now put on some trousers!”

It was a glorious day. Stann grinned widely as he batted the blade out of a cultist’s hand and kicked him down the stairs. At his side stood Mirena in all her glory, her sword was making brilliant arcs as she swung at any foe brave enough to approach. Then he saw it, some of shapes in the mists were retreating down, away from them.

“They’re falling back? Cowards!” He slammed his sword against his shield and laughed. Mirena didn’t look as amused.

“I’m troubled by what that means.” She raised her shield and blocked her remaining attacker’s heavy swing. The large butcher’s knife made another furrow in the metal.

“Rhyce?” Stann called out.

“I’m on it.” The archer let loose a final arrow before leaving the stairs to the others.

Kellen reached out with both hands, each clutching a runestone of power. The roof above trembled and dropped fist sized chunks of stone down into the mists. The rocks made satisfying thuds hitting the stairs, and anyone remaining there. The visibility was getting slightly better however. Without him constantly reinforcing the magic, the mist was dissipating into the air.

She was just lying there. Jaden felt his heart beat harder.

“No, no no no.” The sound of splintering wood got louder. He could see the first axes make their way through the heavy oak door. He had been so wrong. It wasn’t safe at all.

Oleander sprawled on the ground, her hands still holding the obsidian skull. Jaden backed up to her, sending a burst of fire toward the door. The door would be gone in seconds anyway. Having it burn might buy him more time at the rate things were happening.

The flames died away almost immediately, leaving a purple smoke in their wake. He could sense, more than hear, a faint otherworldly wailing in the air. The nethermancer had returned, and was clearly prepared to deal with his magic.

Jaden’s face fell. They were able to deal with one of his sources of magic, that is. He still had another couple of tricks up his sleeve. A first one that might possibly work, and the other that most definitely would. He looked down at Oleander again. If it had been just him, he would’ve chanced the less reliable way. It wasn’t in him to gamble with the life of a friend, though.

The door shattered, showing a pair of brutish cultists with axes. Maybe it was just the stress and fear playing tricks on him, but they seemed larger than before. The purple smoke seeped between them and into the chamber, extinguishing the lingering fires of his first attack. There were many cultists out there, much too many.

“I guess it’s just you and me now,” he mumbled. The Lacunai drew their power from other creatures, but when they complete their first spirit quest they create a primal bond with something that will always be by their sides. A guide, a companion, an avatar of their magic. Most Mystics relish the bond.

“Come out and play.” He surrendered himself. Since his quest, he could count on one hand the number of times he had called on his inner spirit’s power. He actively avoided doing so unless it was absolutely necessary. Jaden knew what it would do to him in the long run, and he had decided to fight it every single step of the way.

But to save Oleander, it was necessary to give another piece of himself.

It had been the main reason why he chose to make a pact with a salamander in the first place. It gave him another source of fire magic. As long as he could call upon the fire, other Mystics would not know whether it came from a contracted creature or from his inner spirit. After all, what sort of Mystic was afraid to use his main spirit? His strongest ally?

As he felt himself being taken over from within, he enjoyed the irony for a moment. They were fighting against the Sons of Husk because the cultists forced dead spirits to possess their members, and then used the ghost’s essence for their own ends. Here he was doing almost the very same thing. His vest and shirt tore off from his back and barely covered his chest, the trousers stretched tight over his hips. He could feel himself grow warmer.

“What the…” a Cultist began, confusion turning into fear.

The nethermancer pushed his way to the front, tools of his trade glowing with that sickly purple light. He too lost his stride as he saw the transformation happen before their eyes.

“That is no Sorcerer! That’s a-“

“Hellfire!” Jaden’s voice didn’t sound anything like it used to. Whatever protections the nethermancer had woven to fend off the previous flames weren’t prepared to handle the kind that engulfed them now. It came from a place too far below for a mortal mind to fathom.

One of the Sons managed to scramble forward in an attempt to avoid the same fate as his allies. Jaden slapped him back into the howling inferno with a wing, and bent down to scoop up Oleander. She still clung to the skull.

The room was completely aflame, any cultist that had chosen not to flee were either dead or dying. Jaden couldn’t see the nethermancer, but there was no more time. The heat or the smoke would soon kill Oleander if she wasn’t already dead, struck down by whatever curse they had put on that skull.

The sound of footsteps running down hidden passage stairs caught Jaden’s attention. Over the dull roar of the fire someone shouted their names.

“Red? Jay? Are you down there?” Rhyce’s voice. He sounded uncharacteristically upset, bless him. But he couldn’t see them like this. They didn’t know, none of them did, and Jaden planned to keep it that way as long as he possibly could.

Folding the wings close around the unmoving redhead, Jaden crashed through the remains of the door out into the rest of the cellar and didn’t stop running. They went up the stairs to the first floor and straight through the closest window. The shards sparkled in the moonlit night.

The street was mercifully deserted at this late hour, but any guards patrolling past the house next time could not avoid seeing the broken window, or hear the faint yells coming from inside. A couple of powerful beats of the wings brought them to the roof across the street. One hand free allowed Jaden to make the same magical gestures he had such trouble with earlier that night. He hated how good this felt.

“Yeah, I can’t see anyone down there.” Stann noisily backed up again to the top of the stairs. The magic mist had cleared enough to see several bodies lying in the rubble in various places, most with arrows telling the story of their final moments.

“Something must have happened.” Mirena scowled through her visor. “Let’s see if we can-“

“Rena?” The Northman turned to look at the knight, who had gone quiet. A glance toward his cousin showed a similar preoccupied expression.

“I heard it too, Mirena. Let’s find Rhyce and get out of here.” Kellen already stood well clear of the top of the stairs. The runes on his arms had faded to the faintest glow as stray bolts and thrown knives had depleted his magical protection.

“Jaden just sent us a far whisper — they have the item, but Oleander is hurt. They are already on their way back to our place.” She avoided mentioning what they came for, or where they were going. There was no telling who could hear them, after all.

Faint noise to their left made them ready their weapons and magic, but soon Rhyce came into view. He had a grim expression.

“The cellar is completely ablaze. Everything down there is ashes,” the archer reported.

“That was probably Jaden’s doing. They’re already out of here,” Kellen explained, as he motioned for everyone to make it back to the window where they got into the building. It would also be their exit, hopefully.

Stann and Mirena brought up the rear this time, to fend off any surprise attacks that might come now that they had abandoned their choke point in the stairs. Faintly, the smell of smoke started to make its way up to the top floor. The secret passage must be working like a chimney for the fire in the cellar.

Rhyce was the first to the window, and leaned out quickly to scan the alley below. He couldn’t hear any neighbours raising a call for the fire yet, so at least the guard wouldn’t be surrounding them yet. However, that was only a matter of time. The fire he had seen down in the cellar had been unlike anything else. It had burned the very stone walls. Just looking at it had felt like touching a hot plate, only inside his soul. What was left of it.

“We’re clear, but we need to go right now,” he whispered back to his friends.

“Kellen?” In the darkness of the unlit room, Mirena’s voice called for action with a single word.

Strong hands grasped the inscribed stones once more, and the walls began to groan anew. Sacrificing some convenience for brevity, there were fewer steps down this time. One by one they climbed out the window and hopped down from one stone platform to the next. The armoured pair made a loud noise as they crashed down the improvised stairs, but stealth was no longer an issue. Now it was all about speed, quickly putting distance between themselves and this place. Kellen released the magic, and more dust rained down to join the rest of it already coating the dead end alley.

“Let’s go.” Stann waved them on, and soon they were well on their way away from the proud old townhouse. In their hurried escape, they failed to notice how the front doors were wide open.

There wasn’t a wound on her. No scratch or burn. Aside from the smell of smoke on her clothes, she looked just to be sleeping. Her hands gripped the black crystal skull hard enough that her knuckles had turned white. Jaden didn’t dare to try and pry them off, however. He could just as easily fall victim to the curse, or it might hurt her even further. A quick glimpse at the magical threads surrounding the dark artefact told him that much, at least. Vicious, purple strings bored into her heart.

Jaden had put Oleander in her bed as soon as they made it back to the Green Raven. It was way past midnight, and neither the innkeeper nor any other person working there had been awake. Jaden doubted they would’ve been able to help anyway, but at least they also wouldn’t have raised the alarm or tried to attack once they saw him. Jaden looked at his hands, and clenched them into fists. They were the wrong colour. They were also slimmer than his own, but not by much. Not since the changes had begun shortly after his first two transpossessions.

Returning to normal, or what passed for it these days, wasn’t any harder than calling upon the other form to begin with. It was all deceptively easy. Many of the other magic societies had some form of shape changing. Some Shamans could turn themselves into animals, and at least some Sorcerers could assume elemental forms. There were other isolated cases, but in every situation the cost to the magician was very high, in some cases almost crippling. For a Mystic, it was — almost literally — second nature. It also became ever easier with each switch, but there was a cost attached for them too. Some gladly paid that price, but not Jaden.

His hands, and the rest of him, changed as he pulled the spirit back inside. He quietly snuck back to the room he shared with Kellen to find some new clothes. There would be time to inspect the damage later. For now, he replaced his ruined shirt and vest, leaving the shreds of the previous garments in a wadded up ball inside his pack. Perhaps they could be salvaged as polishing cloths, or patches for repairs. Rummaging around he also found his second pair of gloves. He hated leaving Oleander alone at a time like this, even for a minute, but there was nothing he could do but wait for their friends to arrive.

The door slamming shut in the common room below brought him back to the present. Sword in hand, just in case, he went to meet the group coming up the stairs to where the guest rooms were.

“Stormfather’s beard, Jay, what happened down there?” The larger of the two Northmen pushed his way past the rest. “Rhyce said he saw nothing but fire!”

“Ah, yes, things got a little out of hand…” Jaden tried to explain, without explaining too much. “That fire won’t spread, though. It will just consume the-“

“We can talk all about that later. Where is Oleander? You told us she had been hurt,” Mirena interrupted the men.

“She’s in your room, here. I… left her like she was. I didn’t know what to do. She’s still holding the… item.” He pulled the door open, and pointed at the short redhead in her bed, lying motionless. “I believe it’s some sort of spiritual attack. As far as I can tell, it is still active, so please take every precaution.”

“Kellen, we need to get to work right away. The rest of you, please stay out of the room unless we need you.” Mirena walked into the room she shared with Oleander, and fell to a knee next to the other woman. She pulled the gauntlets off her hands, and set the helmet next to them on her bed.

The rune seeker just pushed the door shut with a serious expression. The two of them would do all they could to fight whatever had hurt their friend.

The rest of them were left in the hallway. They would just be in the way, and there was little else to do but get some rest. Jaden felt powerless and upset, but there really was nothing he could do right now. Stann looked like he felt, and he was sure Rhyce shared their feelings too, even if he seldom showed anything.

“We should… we should get some sleep. They will probably be at it all night. Let’s make sure we’re in a state to take care of them tomorrow,” Stann reluctantly conceded, patting Jaden with a heavy hand on the shoulder. “You did well there, little brother.”

“I’ll keep watch,” Rhyce said, not leaving any room for discussion. He had already replaced his lost arrows from the pack in the room he shared with Stann, and was apparently ready to stand vigil.

They exchanged some nods, and Jaden retreated back into his room. Kellen would be busy with the unravelling of the Sons of Husk’s curse. That gave him a chance to do something he would rather not. Jaden dug through his pack and came up with his shaving mirror. It was buried deep down with the other odd knickknacks, since he didn’t use it anymore. He hadn’t shaved in months.

It wasn’t a big mirror, but with the light from the moon through the window his sensitive eyes could see almost as well as during the day. Jaden sighed heavily as he took in what was now his body. The changes were subtle, to be fair. The arms and shoulders were just a little softer than before. The softness had also spread down, into a pair of tiny swells. He made himself look at his face. Something with the jaw made him seem even younger. When he tilted the mirror, he could tell that his waist was becoming more slender than his hips. Nothing a thick shirt wouldn’t hide, but summer was coming and with it the warm weather.

He allowed himself another sigh in frustration, and pushed the mirror back down in the pack. Every time he lost just a little more of himself, but this time he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. None of his friends would hesitate to take an injury for him. This was just like that, right?

It wasn’t like that at all. Sometimes he felt like crying.

A figure bent down and brushed some dust away from the cobblestones. A small metal prong gleamed in the early dawn light. The old man pulled his lips back in a way that showed how he had forgotten how to smile. As he turned it around in his bony hands, a small purple smoke trail poured from the lockpick and started to worm its way down the street.