B4 – Chapter 8: Finding the source

Getting to the keep, Tristan spoke briefly with the guards before being escorted to the main castle. Speaking to one of the imposing House Guards, he stated, “I have the panacea elixirs.”

The woman looked down at him as a lesser, and her voice was oddly melodic as she replied. “Wait here.” She turned to her compatriot alongside her, dipped her head, and then went into the large, open doors of the building. A few moments of waiting, she came back with a Demonkin boy – no older than ten, Tristan guessed, but he had no real clue as their lifespans were so long. “This one will help you carry the elixirs from wherever you have them stashed.”

Tristan raised his hand and snapped his fingers. Felicity used that signal to open her storage dimension, and Tristan began pulling out boxes upon boxes of the panacea elixirs. To the Demon’s eyes, he was pulling boxes out of thin air – thanks to the angle which Felicity opened the aperture from. After pulling out the last crate, Felicity let the storage space seal up, and tapped Tristan’s head.

He spoke with a smile and patted the top of one of the crates, “I don’t think the boy will be able to carry these. I can help carry them inside, if you want.”

The Demon, sounding slightly impressed and even a little unnerved, replied. “We have porters. I will notify the castellan of your delivery…mercenary.”

“Marius,” Tristan replied using his alias. “Marius Lestrange.” He dipped his head in a respectful nod, before he reached into his hip pouch and pulled out a gold coin, flicking it over to the Demonkin boy which earned a look of minor shock from the Demon guards. Giving a brief wave of departure, Tristan left and crossed the drawbridge once more.

Felicity spoke in his ear in Standard Tongue, “How do we want to investigate?”

Tristan grabbed the top of his chain and pulled it slightly, directing Felicity’s attention to the Anorox Family Crest he still wore over his jerkin but under the armor thanks to the crumple zone on the front. He replied in whispered Standard Tongue, “The Archon’s Favor is still slotted in there, with the Locate spell stored on it. We can just use that to find the source of the infection.”

The streets around them were bustling, but he did receive a handful of odd looks as someone picked up on his use of the language not of the natives in the Realm. Observing that, Tristan walked a little quicker, into a small alley that led down to another street nearby which he then walked down. Felicity was talking to him the whole time, “I think we should try the source of the disease first, and then if that doesn’t work for some reason, we can maybe look for someone who was recently infected? Sort of daisy-chain our way back along a line of infected people?”

“Seems reasonable,” Tristan replied as he walked over to a slight overhang that kept him out of the sun which turned the red-hued skies into a slightly lighter, near-pink hue. Spinning his crucible, he pushed the essence into the chain around his neck, and down to the Archon’s Favor. “How does this work?” he muttered.

The world went black for a second, as if a sack had been pulled over his head suddenly. He tried to move, but his body was still standing; he was a prisoner within it. In that darkness of his sight, he could see a deeper blackness. A hole. An in the center of that hole, slowly opening, an eye. One that he recognized. “Logos,” he tried to say, but did not feel his mouth move.

His words must have come across though, as the Thought Realm’s Protector replied. “Ah, Tristan Winterbloom. This is your first actual divination spell.” The eye squinted slightly, “You seek knowledge, and have paid the essence price with your artificed spell. Tell me your question in regards to locating a person, place, or thing.”

Again, Tristan tried to talk, didn’t feel his mouth move, but he assumed that Logos could hear regardless. “I am looking for the source of The Feather Scourge.”

Logos’ squint became even more narrow, and the voice sounded disappointed. “That is knowledge that is being kept secret. As such, you would need a higher Order spell to locate that. You have enough essence to ask for the location of two more people, places, or things.”

“The oldest living person infected by The Feather Scourge. By oldest, I mean the oldest infection, not age.”

The blackness surrounding Logos faded, and Tristan was only looking at the cosmic eye as the blackness became white. Then, it shifted and colors began to bleed in – just as if he was painting. Splashes of color that began to take shape into form, until he was looking at a disgusting feather and pustule covered monstrosity in a cage, in some deep, dark dungeon. The blackness returned.

Logos spoke again, “You have seen the location. It is spatially located approximately six-hundred feet down, and a half-mile to your left, back approximately four degrees. I will instinctively turn your body and fix your gaze for you so you know the direction I refer to. One question remains.”

“How about the entrance that leads me to whatever complex holds this person?” Tristan asked.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Once more, the blackness fell away and strokes of color and vibrance filled the space until Tristan was looking at the huge eye of Logos, and beneath, a small, hilly graveyard with several mausoleums dug into the mounds. One in particular had a raised, two-sided axe, held by a winged, horned figure. Then, it faded. Logos spoke once more, “You have seen the location. It is spatially located approximately three-quarters of a mile to your left. Once more, I will turn your body and fix your gaze.” The voice chuckled a bit and the eye widened as the tone became more conversational. “I still have you here for a moment and wanted to thank you. Introducing me to your Matriarch has livened my life quite a bit.”

“How so, if you don’t mind my prying,” Tristan replied.

Logos sighed with what seemed like longing, “I have craved an intellectual equal. Ever since my daughter Betty-”

“Did she go to the Citadel of Essence?” Tristan interrupted.

“Oh, yes. You met her then?”

Tristan nodded, “I thought you were all-knowing.”

Once more, a laugh. “I guard the gateway to the realm of all knowledge and thought. I do not browse it constantly. That would be quite the chore. How is she doing?”