The Tarnished City

Mix straightened up and there was a soft crack as the stiff joints in Mixine's back released some of their tension, "Thank you, but I will manage. I will not let the heretics see me in such a state."

Nothing was more dangerous to Mix then the touch of others, the warmth of Merrique's hug had served to enrapture Mixine in momentary bliss. Marcus was not his idea of a suitor, but Mixine was never this desperate for attention or so emotional. He would not lose control of the situation or succumb to the weaknesses of her body this close to rest. He told himself to hold out a little longer as the very notion of self-encouragement filled him with disgust. Is this really my limit or it is just Mixine's limit?

 

Marcus felt sorry for Mix. He felt sorry for Merrique too... and Vetiver. They had all been weakened somehow by this power. Their magic had been taken away. In fact, he hadn't even seen them. They were lagging behind severely.

"We should meet back up with the others in the central courtyard. Then, when we have everybody accounted for, we can move on to Almathea's residence." Marcus half talks to himself, half informing Mix of his plan.

He moves on, walking away from the forest. He was glad they had met Tybalt. They had gotten a fair warning about the dangerous infestation of monsters there, and also a piece of advice on where to go.

After a period of walking, Marcus makes it to the central courtyard. Not much had changed. He didn't see anybody there. Where were the others?

He looked out the gate, and he thought he caught a glimpse of something moving. He freezes, turning his entire focus onto the gate, but doesn't see anything. Just the road leading out of the city, barren of people and life. Just dry sands, shining white plains, and the marrow sand.

Surely there must have been other travelers. Were they the only ones that survived?

 

The "way out" of the city seemed lacking that feature. Though the gates lay open, a thick layer of fog, a wall of the ashen mist that had filled the city at night, lay in the way. Despite the gentle breeze that meandered from it, the barrier lay there, unmoving, as if held there by some unknown force.

Yet, some strange sound was coming from outside, that of some fluid being swirls or churned, as if the sea lay beyond.

Marcus's ring began to whisper once again, the thousand voices whispering as one. Though there was a great variety in pitch and accent, one thing united them. Fear.
Turn back, beware the great maw.

 

Turn back, beware the great maw.

These words came through in a chaotic mess in his head, and Marcus grimaced for a moment, looking out into the fog. It seemed to dark and unforgiving that going into seemed even worse that what else could lie in the city.

He turned to the center cathedral, and spotted the largest building near it he could find. There was where Tybalt had suggested he go. He hesitated in his first few steps, but started walking towards it. If they were going to learn anything or make any progress, this is where they would have to go, if only for the sake of the well-being of the only three people Marcus had seen since they had become separated after the attack in Relatus's quarter. He kept his eyes open for the others, but his hopes for whether they were even alive anymore or not were dwindling by the moment.

In a period of time that seemed to Marcus like a minute, but was probably closer to an hour, he reached the building. There was almost no noise, and the quiet made time seem almost nonexistent. He looked up at the building, analyzing it.

 

Vetiver

Vetiver awoke in the decimated graveyard, surrounded by the acrid stench of the burnt insects and the scorched earth. "This was truly an epic battle," were the first words to leave his mouth. His voice was raw and his back ached from landing on it. He reached up his hands to check and make sure his rings were still in place. All seven of them were still there, shining against the gloomy backdrop of the Tarnished City. Oh, how he regretted coming to this accursed place.

The gems of Vetiver's rings sparkled, but with his magical vision, Vetiver could see that there was very little magic left in them. They were mere crumbs compared the the mighty reservoir of power he had amassed over the years. Some of that power had also come from the previous owners of the rings, his honored ancestor witches and sorcerers. He hoped that he had used it well.

Now he searched inside himself. The deep, dark place where he kept his magic (what he liked to call 'the Bank') was all but hollow. There was still a small acorn of power in the Bank that was slowly growing, but it would take a good amount of rest before his magic was well and truly restored. At least he still had his relics, which had not been damaged, and his protective amulet. He thanked his lucky stars for that tiny miracle.

"Ok, enough procrastinating," Vetiver groaned. "Time to see if I can stand." He rolled on to his side and crawled over to the nearest gravestone, then used it to pull himself up. "Just put one foot in front of the other, there you go," he murmured to himself. He was on his way.

 

Merrique

Merrique jumped and made a little sound of surprise when Vetiver stirred. She had watched him slumber for hours before she decided to walk around the graveyard to stretch her legs. Some of the insects were still twitching, so she took her time stomping their heads in and cutting out their disgusting, slimy hearts. She was filthy with insect guck, but she wasn't even grossed out by it anymore. It just was what it was.

"Are you okay?" Merrique squealed as she scampered over to Vetiver. She didn't want to touch him with her dirty hands, so she just stood near him and chewed her full bottom lip, clearly distraught. But when she saw how Vetiver was struggling to stand, she didn't care about how filthy she was anymore. She swooped in and pulled his arm over her shoulder. "Lean on me, c'mon," she instructed him. "I've carried wounded soldiers back from battle before, and they were much bigger than you, so just lean on me."

"I stayed behind when the others left," she continued with a shy smile. "I saw which way they went and I'm a half-way decent tracker. I think we can trace their steps and find them."

 

It was an old building. Ancient. Made, no, grown, out of the rock that seemed to form the foundations. Though there was a grey brick pattern, there was no mortar, that being the same stone. Several balconies were stationed on it, two overlooking the main entrance, the left in disrepair and the right covered in wooden steaks. The higher floors were uncovered, whatever creatures lurking in the area not being able to climb higher apparently. At the very top of the manor was some form of clock tower, though more marking the seasons than time. It was stuck at late spring, despite the outside being autumnal.

Upon the building, specifically the lower walls, were marks. Long indents, the sort from curved claws, stretched from the the bottom of the second floor balcony to the boarded up windows of the first. The lacerations were a recurring theme, piles of sickly brown vines have been cut and fallen to the wayside, forming an extra barricade to aid the planks that had been placed into windows, fresh from appearances, lacking rot or sign of age or scratches.

Something rolled in front of Marcus, landing in the mud with a slight thud before continuing to roll. It was a wooden ball, painted white and covered in stains from age. It was clearly well loved, and chips or gashes have been stuffed with cork or wood chips to keep it to retain its shape. A moment later, a small girl came following it. She was clearly below ten, around four foot tall and seemingly unaware of her surroundings as she picked the ball up. She then turned to face Marcus and her eyes shot open. The ball hit the floor and she began to sprint back to the building, entering the front door and shouting. "Mamma!"

 

Vetiver

Vetiver smiled at Merrique. "Of course you stayed with me," he said with feeling. The Lady Sorceress had waited with him while the others had left Vetiver's unconscious body behind. One of these insects could have come back to life and tried to eat him or that roaming one-eyed murderer might have come across him and branded his arm. But Merrique was kind and thoughtful, and she stayed to keep vigil. Now, here was a woman that he could spend his life with.

"Um, you're totally filthy," Vetiver said when the strong smell hit his nostrils. "And I'm not exactly fresh, either. Now, let's see. I believe I still have enough magic for a quick cleansing spell." Searching inside himself, he took a tiny portion of the power in the Bank and waved his hand broadly. A pathetic lightning bolt the size of a worm fizzled out of his index finger and they were instantly clean. All the dirt and blood and slime simply shrugged off of them, leaving their clothes and bodies unsoiled.

"And as much as I love being close to you, I think I can whip up something else to help me walk," the Tall Sorcerer added with a crooked grin. Then he snapped his fingers and a stick on the ground glowed purple and flew toward him. He caught it and it twisted and grew in his grasp until it was a proper walking stick, glossy black with a curved handle, like a raven's beak, and two blood-red stones for eyes.

"No one can accuse me of not having style," he said with a painful chuckle. It hurt to laugh, just like it hurt to do anything else. Gods, he wished he could lay down and rest. And he really should save his magic. The acorn had shrunken from his little display. If he kept it up, he would be completely powerless if they were attacked.

 

Acai watched from a respectful distance as Vetiver and Merrique embraced and flirted unabashedly. It almost made him sick. These people had been Acai's heroes, but in Vetiver's case, he was feeling a little let down. Merrique had been nothing but kind and supportive, even giving him her magic ring, but Vetiver was snippy and rude.

Acai's pride was still sore from how Vetiver had yelled at him earlier, when he had accidentally made the grave explode. He squeezed his hand hand into a fist, the one that was wearing Troublebuster, and the dark crimson stone glowed briefly. The stone was still half black, indicating that he had used half of it's stored magic during the fight with the Boner Monsters. It occured to him that this would be the perfect time to get revenge on Vetiver. Vetiver was weak and, with Troublebuster, Acai had the upper hand.

But Acai decided against it. If he hurt Vetiver in any way, then Merrique would not like him anymore, and Acai still liked Merrique and wanted her to like him. He still needed a teacher, after all. Even though Merrique was currently magic-less, she still had knowledge of magic and she could impart it to him. Play nice, Acai, he told himself. With a grunt, he walked up to the couple, who were practically snogging.

"If you don't mind, I think we should be on our way," Acai told them. He frowned to show his disapproval of Merrique flirting with Vetiver. "Anyway, I guess I should show this to you guys. It fell out of one of the insects." Acai held up the amulet he had found earlier for them to inspect.

 

"Mamma!"
Jade stared at the child in shock. Of all the things she had seen in the city, a child was the last thing she expected. Innocence, joy, playfulness, these things never seemed to have a place in the city. Then again, nothing in this city was as it seemed. The smartest thing was to stick to Marcus. The ring he had seemed to have a certain power for guidance, and if they were to survive in the city that was what they needed most of all.

Mix worried her. The helpless girl/madman leaning on her was weak, troubled. Her fellow Brakenmarshian kept asking for water, which was also a nessessary resource for survival. The group's supplies were running low.

"Marcus," said Jade. "We need to find water for Mixine, as well as for our own."

 

"Mamma!"

Mix's heart choked up instantly at the realization and pulled back in fear at the voice of the child. A girl!? His reaction was quick and unmistakable despite the mask, a pained whimper escaped before it was quickly silenced, "No... No.... I...."

"Marcus," said Jade. "We need to find water for Mixine, as well as for our own."

Mix broke away from Jade for a moment and backed away from the child and tripped over his own feet, falling backwards onto his butt.

"I'll live! I'll live without it! Just... keep her away from me!", He said as buried his head in his arms and curled up with a string of incoherent Brackmarshian. The girl's very presence terrified Mix, as if some unholy specter had appeared before him and he was trying to exorcise or sanctify the place with these ramblings.

 

Marcus glanced at Mix, then back at Jade. "Yes. Maybe Almathea can help us. Although I'm pretty sure the Duke said something about us never being thirsty or hungry... If that's true, then we only need water to clean." He had hardly noticed. He had gone for so long without being clean he wasn't sure what it felt like anymore.

What did Mix's reaction to the little girl mean? The girl appeared perfectly normal to him; her reaction was also completely normal. Calling up to an authority figure in the presence of an unfamiliar situation. Why...

"You seem very injured, Mix. We should find a place to adequately treat it. Almathea, or whoever resides in this house should be able to help us find water and maybe some medical aid of some kind. If it really is that bad, we can ask if the girl not be present while you're resting."

 

The door that the girl had run through was pushed too for a moment, before another figure came out. It was a woman, with pale, near translucent, skin and dull brown eyes. She was wearing a black robe, fading to grey near the hem and decorated with silver thread in the pattern of swallows. She looked lethargic, dark circles beneath the eyes and a certain hollowness to her cheeks. Her hair was ragged, black curls tangled and currently being brushed with an ivory comb. She might have been described as beautiful, if seen in a better state.

The small girls was currently stood next to her, arms stretching upwards to hold the woman's hand. "See, I told you. They're not with Belasarius. They're new."

"They aren't dressed like the false saints." The woman commented, not caring if they heard or not. "Tell me, what is you're business here?" She asked, her voice a weak shout before she gestured for the small girl to head inside. She did, clearly scared of the newcomers.

 

"You seem very injured, Mix. We should find a place to adequately treat it. Almathea, or whoever resides in this house should be able to help us find water and maybe some medical aid of some kind. If it really is that bad, we can ask if the girl not be present while you're resting."

Mix let out a little huff that was mixed with a whimper, he hated the situation and refused to acknowledge how painful each step had been. With Mixine's will broken and his on the verge of collapse, death seemed like a quaint idea, but he would never accept it willingly.

"They aren't dressed like the false saints." The woman commented, not caring if they heard or not. "Tell me, what is you're business here?" She asked, her voice a weak shout before she gestured for the small girl to head inside. She did, clearly scared of the newcomers.

Mix pulled himself together quickly at the mention of the false saints and hunched over on his hands in a humble, almost groveling bow, "Ah please forgive our intrusion to your home, we are trapped in this land. The one called Rundas has taken much from me, including my sight. The crossroads of fate has brought us travelers together, but I came here in search of a home. Please take pity on us."

As Mix bowed again, his head hit the ground and the mask fell loose, revealing Rundas' blinding brand. As the mask fell away, Mix or Mixine quickly caught it and hastily put it back. Only a brief glimpse of the soft girlish face was shown, but Mix resumed speaking without hesitation, "They attack and kill without provocation.... in the midst of praying for safe passage out of the city. Perhaps it was foolish to pray not at Tyniva for peace, but please be merciful to us. I am not among those heathens who defile the sanctity of this place."

 

Belastius? The false saints? Jade realised that here they could accuire more information about the city, and the people after them. Jade refused to give in to the fact that they would spend eternity in the city, nor did she want her magic to be taken away from her. The god's city did not see the last of her.

Jade smiled at Mix's word, and gave the woman a hopeful look. As much as Mixine's alter ego was mad, he had a certain curtesy. If his words will not get them inside, Jade did not know what will.