[Mkguild] MK: The Long Day (5/5)

[Hallan Mirayas]

   "Will he be all right, Edmund?  I knew something wast amiss at his first=
 stagger."

  =

Drift's body ached as badly as if he'd run all day while being battered
with clubs and mallets, and his exhausted muscles felt like so much
jelly.  The sound of raindrops beating on canvas suggested why he was
otherwise dry despite the driving rain that could be heard spattering
on the street.  A pair of hands that had been holding his head let go,
and his eyes opened slowly on a wavering blur as his vision swam.  The
cheetah, the rat, and the elk knelt at the center of a small crowd
around him.

   "Yes, I think so," the cheetah-man said.  He was
the one who had been holding Drift's head.  "The poison is purged, and
I've done what healing I can."  He didn't seem pleased with the last
two words, his expression suggesting he wished he could do more.

  =

"Poi=85son?"  Drift snapped alert.  "Wolfram!"  The Samoyed taur tried to
push himself upright, but his aching body refused.  "Ow=85"  He tried
again, harder, and the elk and rat held him down, advising him to stay
calm.  Drift would have none of it.  "Let me go!  She shot my friend! =

I have to warn Priestess Merai!"

   "Priestess Merai?" the rat echoed.

   "Who was shot?" the cheetah asked almost at the same time.  "Merai?"

  =

"My friend, Wolfram!  If that arrow was poisoned, too=85"  Drift
struggled, trying to get loose of the hands holding him, feeling his
strength slowly starting to come back.  "Let go!  She-"  A hacking fit
of coughs interrupted him, and the marble-sized, hard brown-black ball
it brought up decisively snapped his chain of thought as it plunked
into his hand.  "What the hell?"

   "Arrow?  Not quite, Mr.
Snow," the cheetah said with a hint of an arched eyebrow. "This is the
first time I've ever seen someone poisoned by nutmeg.  Apparently,
you're canine enough for it to be toxic.  When I was younger, I saw it
happen to one of my father's hunting dogs.  Stay down and rest; you've
had a very nasty seizure."

   "Calm down, you oversized hound,"
the elk muttered.  "You're going to hurt someone."  Saulius didn't
bother with words and just put the taur's arm in a joint lock.

  =

How the tiny rat managed that so easily, Drift couldn't quite figure
out, but for the moment it balanced out against his rising temper,
leaving words as the preferable route.  Several questions came to
Drift's mind at once, and one finally took precedence.  "How did you
know my name?"

    "You're rather unmistakable, Mr. Snow,"
rumbled one of two Watchmen who'd pushed their way through the crowd, a
massive, shaggy-haired bull creature of a kind Drift hadn't seen
before.  His brown fur was especially thick around his head and neck. =

Short, thick horns curved upward to a sharp point from each temple, and
his large face seemed naturally set in a stern, intimidating glower. =

"You're even somewhat notorious.  You're also under arrest."

  =

"What??"  Indignation buttressed what strength he'd recovered, though
it snapped what calm he'd mustered, and Drift threw off the two Keepers
restraining him despite Saulius' joint lock.  "Get off me!" he snapped
as he rolled upright, rising to his feet.  His legs tried to wobble,
but he locked them in place by sheer force of will.  Better to bluff
the Watchmen with a show of strength than to advertise how weary he
was.  "If this is your idea of a sick joke," he growled, not quite able
to loom over the massive bison-morph Keeper, "I'm not laughing." =

/Typical Watch,/ Drift thought, eyes narrowing with disgust.  /Late as
always and chasing the wrong target./  "I did not chase an assassin all
the way from Recos' Orphanage to be arrested by a couple of idiot
Watchmen."  =


   The bison's expression didn't flicker, but the
grizzle-bearded man behind him darkened with anger.  /Not quite what
I'd meant to say,/ Drift thought with a hint of recrimination as
several bystanders backed away from the brewing confrontation, /but
I'll be damned if I'll apologize for it./  Thunder rolled in the storm
outside the awning to match the storm brewing inside.

    The
cheetah, the one called Edmund if Drift remembered correctly, gestured
for the two Watchmen to stay back.  He asked, keeping his voice level
and calm, "Assassin?  You expect us to believe you were chasing an
assassin?  That is certainly quite a tale."  The other two picked
themselves up off the ground where they'd landed, and spread apart to
the sides.  Drift did not plan on underestimating them again, and put
his back to a wall so he could keep both in sight.  =


  =

"Describe yon assassin, if thou wouldst," the rat said, a hint of a
satisfied smile showing as he noted Drift's wary eye staying on him
more than any of the others.  "Twas it a man, woman, or beast?"

  =

Drift fixed his attention fully on the rat, trying to figure out where
he'd seen him before.  "A woman," he said, choosing his words with
care.  He was outnumbered, outclassed, and the trio knew how tired and
battered he really was.  "Dark hair, shoulder length.  Thin build, fair
skin, and close-fitting dark clothes, wielding a hand crossbow.  I
didn't get close enough for a good scent, though-"  He paused to rub
his still-burning nose.  "And landing on a spice merchant's shop didn't
exactly help matters."  Realizing he had forgotten to give credit where
credit was due, he glanced toward the cheetah and thanked him.  "Thank
you for your help, by the way.  Edmund, was it?"

   Edmund bowed
without taking his eyes off Drift.  "Sir Edmund Delacote.  A pleasure
to be of service. My companions are Sir Saulius," he said and pointed
to the rat. "And Sir Egland," he continued, pointing to the elk. "Now,
why would someone want to assassinate Priestess Merai?"

   Drift
swallowed, glad to have the wall to lean back against as the magnitude
of his blunder hit home.  He'd just assaulted two knights of Metamor,
including the two-time winner of the Knights' Tourney, and he had what
could only be an honest-to-Eli -paladin- showing interest in him.  /Oh,
boy.  You've really stepped in it this time.  Polite, sincere, and try
not to let them see how tight your tail just tucked under=85/

-----

  =

The spy slipped out of Metamor unnoticed, and through Euper as well,
out into the countryside.  He marked his trail on trees he passed with
surreptitious swipes of a black-furred feline hand.  Evading pursuit
was easy when one could shapeshift beyond what the Metamorans
expected.  Leaving Euper's gates, he turned off the road and into the
woods, homing in on the subtle vibrations in the aether he'd sensed
from Metamor's alleyways.  They led him to a copse of trees deep in the
forest, and he spent thirty minutes seeking among them for the source,
a forming rift to the Dreamlands.  The Dreamlands were the link between
the Material plane of the mortals and the heavens and hells of the
aedra and daedra, and he would need to pass through them to reach his
master's side.  He finally found what he was seeking between a pair of
pine trees, the air between them seeming to shimmer and wave as if a
heat mirage had been laid over it, without completely obscuring what
lay beyond.

   To most, a forming rift to the Dreamlands would
offer little more than a strange optical shimmer that would fade within
a day, but the assassin was long experienced with them and knew what to
do when the moment came to act.  Reaching out, he seized a ripple in
the air between his fingers and pulled it aside with a practiced jerk
that tore the air with a flash of light and a sound like ripping
canvas.  He stepped through into a glade much like the one he'd just
left=85 and yet not.  The Dreamlands were much like the Material plane in
appearance, but were both more real, and less=85The brown trees were now
a bright shade of yellow, with amber leaves that glinted in the
sunlight.  Purple grass rustled under his feet as he turned in place. =

A troupe of brownies scattered into the brush nearby, chattering in
tiny, frightened voices, and he caught a brief glimpse of the fey deer
they had been stalking before it, too, vanished, bounding off in a
streak of brown and white.  He paid none of them any heed, his eyes
seeking the glowing white column of the Axis, the link between all the
Heavens and all the Hells.

   Ah, there it was, and relatively
close.  He could reach it in a half hour, walking, but he saw no need
to take even that long.  He leaped forward, his body flowing as white
fur wrapped him round, ears sliding up into points as a curled tail
swished out behind, and the ground flew past under four broad paws. =

There was a certain delicious irony to using the mark's own form to
travel in, especially since that form was so well-suited for doing so. =

That hint of mischievous glee was the only break in an otherwise
furious mood, however serene an appearance he presented to the outside
world.  With a single colossal blunder, the rank amateur with whom he'd
been paired had nearly undone months of planning.  Only the chance
appearance of that paladin had prevented months of hard work and
cultivation from being completely ruined.  There was a certain irony in
that, too: a paladin unknowingly preserving a hell-born plot.  Even so,
as he leap into the gleaming Axis, the spy swore to never again work
with a partner.

   The rush of transit through the Axis
accompanied the rush of another transformation, and the spy stepped
from the light into the darkness of the Eighth Hell tall, dark-haired,
and female.  She tossed her long hair back over her shoulder with
delicate human hands, the same that had held the crossbow when she shot
the ram Keeper.  Her master would know her no matter what the form, but
she knew that even the Lord of Avarice was not entirely immune to the
charms of a winsome female.  He would likely see through the ploy, but
she wanted every possible advantage she could scrape together in order
to rid herself of the useless deadweight with which he'd burdened her.

  =

She ignored the damned souls in their tattered finery, working under
the lash to mine precious metals and gems for the glittering buildings
of the Eighth Hell.  All of them, down to the lowest hovel, glittered
and gleamed, but therein lay the irony:  there was nothing soft to rest
on, nothing to eat or drink, no way to recover their strength.  That
could only be had by paying, and the coin of the realm was labor. =

Those who would not (or could no longer) work were sent to the
factories.  She passed those without a glance as well, the massive
factories that rendered those souls into the soul tar that was the
currency of the Nine Hells.  Some of the damned tried to play for time,
tried to 'play the game' and get ahead, but none succeeded.  All of
them eventually went into the factory vats, some too soul-weary to
struggle, but some screaming and clawing to the last.

   It was
to the palace that the spy set her sights, and she distracted the
balrog at the gates with the same trick she'd used on the carthorse
back in Metamor: a matched pair of tiny illusions just in front of his
eyes.  While the illusion for the carthorse had been a snarling dog
just big enough to force perspective and make it look normal-sized and
a few feet away, for the balrog it was a fight among the workers.  She
knew what balrogs liked, and there was little they liked more than a
fight.  Especially one they could wade into and know they'd win.  While
he was watching, she slipped past unnoticed and in through the gates. =

It wasn't that the balrog wouldn't have let her past, but any chance
for mischief was worth grabbing.  It would not do to meet her lord
still seething.  Lord Agemnos considered himself the ultimate
businessman, and she would need to be calm, cool, and collected to get
him to change his mind.

   That plan died the instant she walked
into her master's throne room and saw Thestilus already there.  Three
steps and a slap sent the imp clear over her lord's ruby-studded
scrying basin, his face ripped open from cheek to the opposing ear by a
hand turned to hooked dragon talons.  "You nearly killed my mark, you
Light-cursed idiot!!"

   "The Metamor Curse is unpredictable,"
retorted the leathery-skinned imp as he staggered back to his feet, his
face regenerating with the lightning speed of his kind.  "Most Keepers
don't react so closely to their=85 species."  He edged sideways, keeping
the basin between himself and her.

   "You should have considered the possibility and made allowance for it!"

  =

"What did you want me to do, make the merchant leave a quarter of his
wares behind on a possible reaction I didn't even know could occur?"

   "You should have known the chance existed, you incompetent buffoon!"

  =

"Enough," said the man on the throne, a lean, fair-skinned man in a
long vermillion cloak over rich silken clothing.  His voice was as
closely clipped as his immaculate golden beard, and icy blue eyes
locked the spy in their gaze.  "It concerns me," he said as he rose to
his feet, "how much of your target's temper seems to be rubbing off on
you.  Take care, lest you feel -my- temper."  The blazing red-orange
glimmer of the fire opals sewn into the fringe of his cloak gave
warning of the price of that temper.  "You are valuable, my master spy,
but only as long as you obey my will."

   The spy dropped to one
knee, a fist to the ground in a show of obedience.  "My apologies,
milord."  That was the danger of studying mortals as closely as she
had, in order to understand them from their own point of view.  That
and an innate talent for matching her personality to that of her target
made her a truly superior infiltrator, but getting too close to a
target could bleed over character traits.  And she had gotten very
close indeed to the fiery Samoyed, with whom it took startlingly little
effort and acting to become compatible.  If she had not checked- three
different times!- she would have sworn he was an aedra counterspy
trying to trip her up.  And, for a mortal, he had such a cute butt=85

  =

Lord Agemnos' gaze turned to Thestilus next, and the imp shrank back
slightly before dropping to the floor.  "I will forgive your error this
once, Thestilus," said Agemnos.  "Do not fail me again, or I will
plunge you back into the sulfur pools from whence you came and have you
remade into a mindless hellhound, fit only for the kennels.  Perhaps
you would even be a gift to my cousin Revonos, for what short time you
survive in his arena."  The imp shuddered at the threat.  "Alexastra is
right: you should have known about the possibility of a reaction.  But
you are also right: the chances were remote and, aside from the nutmeg,
that was an excellent choice of merchant to place where he would fall. =

He reacted as expected throughout the entire test, and the high value
of the destroyed wares will put him in a deep debt from which Alexastra
can now rescue him, furthering her hold over him."  Agemnos looked
sharply over at the spy.  "You are certain that he will not go to his
friend Brightleaf for help?"

   The spy shook her head.  "Not in
so short a time, my lord," she said.  "His pride would not let him.  He
would do it eventually, perhaps, but not before exhausting all other
options for working things out by himself.  I will pay his debt before
I see him, and then present it as a fait accompli.  He won't be happy
about it, but I'm certain I can convince him it's the right course." =

She got to her feet, careful to keep her voice deferential.  She knew
by now that she would not be getting rid of Thestilus anytime soon. =

"With your permission, my lord, I would like to get back quickly. =

Drift Snow may be proud and stubborn, but he is unpredictable when
backed into a corner.  I would prefer not to give him time to be
clever."  As appealing as she found Drift when he thought he was being
sneaky, now was not the time for it.

   Lord Agemnos nodded. =

"Very well.  Set your plans in motion.  Thestilus, for the time being,
restrict your activities to Linafex and leave Snow to Alexastra."

  =

Thestilus did not look pleased by that directive.  "My lord," he
wheedled, "I do not mean to question your wisdom, but why are we
involving Snow at all?  If Linafex is a problem, why not just kill
him?"  He stayed on his knees, but looked up from the ground.  "I'll do
it.  Quick slip in, stab, stab, no waiting," he said, matching gestures
to words.  "And then slip back out again with none the wiser."

  =

Agemnos smiled, revealing gleaming white teeth.  "My ambitious little
imp.  It is not, as it were, considered couth to kill someone with whom
you have a contract."  He sat back down on the throne, and his smile
widened in malicious good humor.  "Not so directly, anyway.  It
frightens away future clients if they think I might have them killed. =

Besides which, I would only profit by one soul if you killed Linafex. =

Involving Snow raises the possibility of a second.  Now be off, both of
you," he said, gesturing in dismissal, "and be profitable."

Fin.

_________________________________________________________________
Need to know the score, the latest news, or you need your Hotmail=AE-get yo=
ur "fix".
http://www.msnmobilefix.com/Default.aspx
-------------- next part --------------
An HTML attachment was scrubbed...
URL: http://lists.integral.org/archives/mkguild/attachments/20080210/90e588=
08/attachment-0001.htm