The ice-cold sheets of rain had driven everyone else from the streets, so Randidly and Jotem moved quickly without anyone glancing around and asking too many questions about the presence of a Nether King. The rain pattered around him, but otherwise, the environment was oddly peaceful. Even with his robe sticking to his skin, Randidly felt wonderful; the tingling rain helped clear his mind from all the interactions with Swacc.
Weirdly, Jotem seemed quite sensitive to water, quickly beginning to shiver and sneeze every few seconds as though the chill pierced through his buoyant body. Randidly glanced at him but said nothing.
Would be quite ironic if I saved him only for him to catch some sickness later and die. Or even⊠perhaps he infected himself with the poison imageâŠ
On his arm, the Nether Ritual tugged ineffectually, confused by the developments of the last few minutes. But as Randidly had noticed earlier, it was a rather lazy construction. The individual who had given it to Drane probably wanted to skimp pretty badly after interactions with Swacc. Its edges began to unravel as Randidly followed Draneâs careful wordings, even if he didnât satisfy the spirit of the request.
They made it back to the alley and found Bogart and Demetrius still waiting for them. The grandson towered over the small Nether Herald, using his large and muscular body to block the rain. Both were pretty much soaked through. Both gave Jotem strange looks but fell into line without much comment.
For everyone involved, it had been a strange day.
At the merchantâs direction, they soon made it to one of Malloonâs gates. It also functioned as a massive engine, hunched against the edge of the city inside the barrier, creating the protective force to repel both enemies and the worst of the storms. The gates remained wide open even in the inclement weather, although Jotem had to walk up and speak to a guard to get the group waved through. Perhaps due to their bedraggled look, the muscular ratman didnât ask too many questions about the color of their robes.
They passed through a narrow tunnel to get to a dark gold barrier. Randidly looked around in fascination, sensing the rather rough but extremely mechanical aspects of these barriers. But all too soon they reached the edge and Jotem turned around. âWare! The fickle winds dance outside with malicious intent. Adjusting to such worthy adversaries takes poise and inner strength.â
The Nether Herald nodded with a cheery smile while his grandson flexed and growled. But Randidly put his hand on Jotemâs shoulder to stop him. âLet me go first and make a few preparations.â
Jotem seemed confused, but Randidly just patted the half Origin-Beastâs still shivering arm. The barrier parted begrudgingly as he walked through like he pushed his way through hanging chains. But honestly, it ended up being a good thing.
Because it prepared him for the moment he passed through the barrier and the storm watching outside started pelting him with fistfuls of mud. Spluttering, Randidly wiped the dripping sediment from his face. The world outside of Malloon looked inhospitable and squat, the only plants able to survive were crouching little bushes that
still
swayed and distorted within the hands of the wild wind. Precipitation came horizontally as much as it fell on top of him. Dust constantly scratched at his exposed feet and ankles, making him feel like he was in a sandstorm while
also
being drenched.
The raucous noise was a constant grind against the senses as well. Even more than the howl of the wind, it was the constant grind of the barrier's engine that made the surrounding air rumble. As Randidly got a better sense of his bearings, he could see a short distance away were massive exhaust fans from the engine, blowing out acrid air and image discharge from the inefficient Engraving of the era.
Randidly wiped a little more mud from his face.
The engines and the massive discharge definitely donât help the local environment. But why is the climate here so harsh. Itâs almost like there is-
He looked up and stilled in genuine apprehension. Because there, hanging far above beyond even his Grim Intuition could capture with any detail, was a hanging sphere of massive significance. Pine, the memory version which hadnât yet collapsed in on itself to become that suffocated, inverted utopia, hovered in the sky and tormented the people below with massive shifts in significance. Huge hurricanes raged in the upper environment due to Pineâs presence; what they felt down here was just the dregs.
Randidly tore his gaze away because he could feel something opening up in the sky from his awareness. The horrifying modern Pine reached into the memory and began to widen his hungry maw, attempting to devour the entire memory and everything within through Randidly. Luckily, he noticed quickly and kept his gaze fixated very purposefully away. Gradually, the connection faded. The memory Pine remained untainted by the present. In the chaotic seething, others probably wouldnât even notice the shift.
Focusing on his own position, Randidly began using his small bits of Aether and Nether to adjust the surroundings. He wove patterns of force to counteract the storm. The small notes he could mobilize didnât resist directly but guided it into recursive flows around his body. Soon an orb of rotating sediment blunted the worst of the wind and rain. By the time Jotem poked his head out through the barrier, it was positively mild around him.
âAn auspicious sign. Our journey is blessed by the sky muse.â He announced, pulling behind him the still smiling Nether Herald and the more surly grandson. âQuick, to the road, before the wind scythes us down where we stand.â
âWhy the fuck do you talk like a fool,â Bogart mumbled.
The two larger companions didnât appear to notice Randidlyâs efforts, aside from the Nether Herald which gave him a thankful nod, not even acknowledging huge fistfuls of mud splattering midair before they could reach the party.
The road was more like a small trench, worn down by feet trudging up to Malloon. It did provide some small cover up to about the chest, which made Randidlyâs job of churning his patterns around him even easier. As they proceeded further away from Malloon, the trench become somewhat more shallow, so Randidly had to duck and Bogart hunched over as far as his body would allow. Jotem flew low and horizontally, keeping his entire person covered. Every thirty meters or so there was a branch in the trench, leading off into a direction made indeterminable by the precipitation and windblown debris beyond Randidlyâs shield.
They followed Jotemâs guide, even though the pauses as he made decisions between the branches grew longer. Randidly did his best to ignore the mutters of âhave we passed it already?â and âNay, by my soul, this
must
be the pathâ. Itâs not like he could very well discover which farm belonged to Jotem, even if he scanned the surrounding area.
At one point, the Nether Herald Demetrius reached up and tugged on Randidlyâs elbow. âDo you hear that whisper?â
Jotem spoke without turning around. âAh, this infernal wind. Tis hardly a whisper. Its cries land shrilly upon the ears, does it not?â
However, Randidlyâs eyes widened. Demetrius wasnât talking about noise, but significance. Once it was pointed out to him, he felt it too. Randidly looked at Jotem. âJust a moment. I think there was something down this pathway.â
âHmph, well, if this impromptu wandering later results in us losing our way, I refuse to be held responsible,â Jotem scowled, his goatee scrunched up so much it curled at the end. But he quickly followed.
They passed a few more branches, but now Randidly had the scent of the significance. He paused once and glanced back at Demetrius, deeply impressed at his sensitivity to energy. His Nether didnât seem very dense or sophisticated, but he noticed the pattern before Randidly even pulled it apart from the chaos.
The group found the source, piling up by Randidlyâs sudden stop. His expression twisted.
On the ground in front of them, abandoned and partially buried by mud, was a familiar figure. His eyes had been gouged out and his hands had been cut off. His lips were dry and crusted with the mixture of blood, pus, and mud. Dehydration and blood loss seemed about to claim him. Images had been shoved into the wounds to prevent them from healing. But he was unmistakably Drane Swaccâs servant Armel.
âHelp meâŠâ Armel whispered. He didnât even appear to be aware of their presence, or the sudden slackening of rain and wind. His chest barely moved, his breaths extremely weak. âSomeone⊠please⊠I⊠I donâtâŠâ
The Grey Creature growled and rose within Randidlyâs chest. His emerald eyes blazed. The cruelty seemed so pointless⊠and so familiar. Based on Armelâs condition, he had been wounded and dumped around the same time that Randidly had been speaking to Drane in the basement, with the Nether captives. Perhaps that was where the slick-skinned Coppun had gone, carrying the body out of Malloon while Randidly went to speak with Jotem.
âPleaseâŠâ Armel wheezed. Randidlyâs eyes were glassy as he brooded and looked down at him.
All because of a broken glass that wasnât really even his own fault. All because Swacc arranged it.
He would have died out here.
Did
die here, in the real happening of these events. Jotem would have been killed by some other Nether King or one of Draneâs lackeys. And Demetrius and Bogart would both be stuck within Swaccâs Dungeon.
Randidlyâs hands clenched. Aether and Nether raced each other through his body, making his muscles hum.
This is a group that never would have met, who suffered under Swacc in the real occurrence.
But now⊠I fucking swear Iâll teach Drane Swacc the lesson he never learned in real life.
Randidlyâs expression hardened.
Even if its just in this memory⊠The Swacc Family will not prosper.
âMy liege,â Demetrius said gently, tugging at Randidlyâs elbow. âHis condition is worrisome. We cannot simply let him lay here.â
Randidly blinked away and felt a flush of shame; he let his anger distract him from what was most important. Behind them, Jotem cleared his throat. âAh, I suppose it cannot be helped. With the blessings heaped upon me by my lineage, allow me to restore- what?â
Jotem gasped as Randidly reached forward and unleashed his Fourth Authority. The memory began to shake dangerously, but Animation Nova bloomed out of his palm in a silver sigh. Pure vital energy radiated out from his fingers, sinking into Armelâs body. The man sucked in a breath. His ruined eyelids fluttered, revealing the horrific wounds within.
Once his condition stabilized, Randidly reached out and pressed a hand to his forehead. Yggdrasil moved as gently as it could, creating energy roots to flow through his body. Bit by bit, earning a shudder through the memory each time, he wore down the image scars left to keep the body from healing.
Breathing out through his nose, Randidly pulled back. The memory was dangerously unstable right now, but the work was done. Armel was no longer walking toward deathâs door. He would soon heal.
âYou are a great healer,â Demetrius whispered. âQuite impressive.â
Randidly nodded, barely able to understand the words. The shaking in the memory wasnât deteriorating it, but it once more made it more difficult to understand the surroundings. His Nether Core revved, but it wasnât enough. His shield blocking the wind began to collapse. Rain and mud fell harder, soaking them all.
He picked up Armelâs body and looked at Jotem. âLead on.â
âActuallyâŠâ Jotem blinked and peered beyond Randidly, further down the side path. âI do believe these walls were carved by my hands! How strange. To think a body would be coincidentally here upon my doorstep. Follow me, before the storm sends it wrath to harry us-â
From Armelâs position, it took them only two minutes to reach Jotemâs farm.
Randidly could see it, as he stepped out of the trench and saw a low building squatting between two rocks, the Grey Creature still rabidly furious inside of him. Having gotten Randidlyâs word he would handle the issue of Jotem, Drane Swacc had walked back to Coppun and ordered him to dump the wounded Armel in this very stretch of trench. Because other than Jotem, who would come here? The body wouldnât be discovered for a long, long time.
Long enough for the mud to claim it. The servant Armel will have been forgotten. Drane Swaccâs crimes would be buried by the constant storms.
Randidly bared his teeth at Armelâs unconscious form. He would not have shown such an expression if he were conscious; likely it would have scared the man to death.
I wonder what you know that had him so decisively seek to get rid of you?