There were some inhabitants of Urmlaspyr that claimed that the Bone College had actually been built of bones, and that the souls of those who had once inhabited those bones were thus trapped in the building itself, haunting all those that entered, and sometimes preventing unwilling members in the cult of Afflux from leaving. Most inhabitants ignored this quietly whispered belief, or if it ever came up in public discussion, threatened to burn those that had expressed such thoughts for witchcraft. Aric, the "bone rattler" that most in the town looked to when they were afraid of spirits- real or imagined- held his peace about the place in which he'd learned some of his most powerful offensive spells. He normally kept his distance from the place as well, but on this occasion, it couldn't be helped.
He did not have to even glance at the ornately carved walls to remember every picture, every word, every detail imprinted there. He could have closed his cloudy grey eyes against the sight of the plush red carpets that rolled like the blood that they symbolized, and the Afflux-sealed banners that hung over the doors to the torture rooms, all the while still knowing precisely where he was. Not a single poker or thumbscrew seemed to have moved since he had last set foot in the place- a fact that somehow gave some small, strange measure of comfort to him. Perhaps, had anyone but Semnemac been guiding the course of the Bone College- this centuries-old, multi-level torture chamber- it would have degenerated into a sickening menagerie of various types of undead or an evil coven filled with macabre practitioners. Yet here it stood, nothing more sinister than a center of intense study- albeit one that easily waved away moral boundaries that even most black mages would recoil from in horror. As the Shepherd, he couldn't be glad of the atrocities that occurred in the "sacred" halls, but his natural practicality always reminded his agitated conscience that the "experiments" carried out there could have very well been worse.
Kaionne revealed a small, yet genuine smile at Aric's approach. "The female hopes you will pardon the closed doors," she purred, opening her arms to him. "It is not for lack of trust."
"Of course," Aric replied warmly, moving forward to grant the Grand Torturer the hug she sought. "I sensed Semnemac's disturbance from the moment I turned down the street. This seems to be- an unusually difficult struggle for him. I'm afraid there is a situation in the catacombs that stalled my attention, but it has also revealed some unforseen allies. As we speak, some of the Firebirds are 'reading the guts' on our behalf."
"Ah, an old practice- this one has not it used in quite some time, despite her- title," Kaionne sighed. "But the old methods usually prove to be the best. If Semnamac were teaching... well." The Shifter, who had misted up with worry shook her head in the vain attempt to calm herself. "There is a young lady inside- Arlwynna- who has been helpful. She is skilled with herbs and roots, but also has a natural talent for hearing the voices of the earth that the female believe crosses over into divination."
"Interesting that she is here," Aric noted thoughtfully. "Was she looking to deepen that natural talent into an educated understanding of the craft?"
"The story of her acceptance as a traveler through the Axis of Afflux is... an interesting one," Kaionne chuckled lightly. "We will have her tell it for your amusement at another time. For now, be wary. Questioner Seyashen, whose side she will not leave but on pain of impropriety, has been trapped in some sort of nightmare since he laid eyes on the Cormite scrolls he sent for. She believes that this reaction proves that her ancestor has led us to the right documents, and that the answers he sought are close to him. However, with Seyashen's inability to help her..."
"And Semnemac?" Aric urged gently, placing a hand on Kaionne's shoulder as she turned to open the doors.
A short, huffed sigh escaped the Shifter, and a grave look crossed Aric's face at once.
"He- has not spoken," Kaionne managed after a few moments. "Not a word, since the spirits howled in his ears about every mage that speaks with the spirit world being burned- that is why the female sent for you. He will not leave this chamber, yet horrible screams come from here- his students fear the worst, beginning to talk among themselves about various types of merciful killings. Even when the female nears him, he recoils- folds himself up like a new pup and covers his eyes, as though he didn't remember-"
"Enough," Aric soothed, his worn voice barely audible. "I will do all I can."
Kaionne breathed deeply, composing herself, then opened the doors to Semnemac's private study. At the table near the window, a lovely dark-skinned female of some kind of Elven descent pored over three open scrolls. Nearly half the room away, laying on a well-dressed palette with a mere loinscloth covering him for decency's sake, was the pale, freely sweating form of Seyashen, whose eyes jumped under their lids. And in the far corner, pressed all the way against the stone wall, sat Semnemac, utterly naked, and rocking back and forth rapidly. It was clear from the darkening blotches on his skin that he'd either been rocking for some time or with a great deal of force, and his hair lay in strips all over his head, caked with sweat and dirt.
"My son," Aric began, his eyes instantly locking onto the miserable-looking Tiefling, "do not fight the message of the spirit. Let her do what she can to tell you what she needs. Lady Kaionne, I'm afraid you'd better go. Semnemac is doing his best to restrain a spirit who longs to destroy all around her- even him."
The Shifter lifted her head for a few moments, but then nodded, knowing that this was no place for pride or a stubborn nature. "He must be so tired- please-" she breathed as she moved behind the Human male to shut him in and herself out.
"I will do all I can," Aric repeated, trying to steel his heart. Beyond him, Arlwynna looked up with a weary smirk, then turned her attentions back down to the scrolls.
The moment that the large wood doors closed, an inhuman growl arose from Semnemac's lips.
"She's gone," Aric began, allowing a fourth of his natural voice to resonate in the room. He took a few moments to focus his gaze upon Arlwynna, surrounding her with a ward. "Now- let her take the reigns. You won't hurt your traveler- only me."
Semnemac's growl came to a gurgle in his throat, then finished in a hiss that fizzed between his teeth. Then suddenly, he slammed his back against the wall with all his might and began hitting himself in the head with closed fists. Aric began moving toward him slowly, and as he did, he heard Seyashen begin a low, pitiful moan- while still quite asleep.
"I think nothing of returning to this place- to the mage you need me to be," he repeated quietly. "Release the girl- and trust in me, young speaker. Stop holding the spirits back."
"Father, please help me," Arlwynna sighed, putting her face in her hands for a few moments. "I don't know what to look for without Questioner Seyashen...would you believe I soaked those blankets in water? They touched him, and all this steam rose up. It was like spitting into a hearth fire."
"Who did he say he was looking for before?" Aric asked gently.
"There's a spirit that he's certain is Shadar-kai visiting him-and a lot of mages here- with hauntings of being cut up, poisoned, blasted with magic, beaten, stoned and burned to death," Arlwynna sighed, putting her hands back down on the desk. "He and the Master Inquisitor call the her The Nameless- but I know her too, and... she's only a girl, a scared little girl. I'd bet anything that she's from Thultanthar, based on what I've been told of that place, so... I don't completely understand why we have the Cormite execution and deportation records. It's on my ancestor's word that we sought to retrieve them, but what creature in Cormyr would do any of those things to a child? Cormites are relatively honourable people."
Semnemac stopped hitting himself and let out a blood curdling scream, which nearly stopped Aric's breath in his chest. He glanced over to Arlwynna and was at first gratified that the ward held- then he realized that the screamed spell had not been meant for her at all. He closed his eyes for a few moments, lifted his right hand to inscribe a letter into the air and breathed deeply, causing the letter to glow for a few moments.
"You cannot use your banshee wail, little daughter," he pronounced. Semnemac watched with curious eyes as the letter faded into darkness, then turned an angry gaze toward Aric.
Within moments, out of thin air, an ominously dark cloud began to form. Seyashen's moan grew louder, as though he were in grievous pain, and he began arching his back, which caught Arlwynna's attention.
"Hey, hey now- what hurts?" she began, getting up from the table edge and moving toward Seyashen.
"Get back," Aric warned without having to turn around. "Stay away from him, for now. Go back and search the scrolls for conjurers- any female put to death for that art. I have my thoughts, but- start there." The reek of acid began to permeate the room, but Aric managed to maintain a relatively equal distance between Semnemac and Seyashen, focusing on catching Semnemac's erratic gaze. "I may prevent you from harming us, but I mean you no harm- show me what it is that will break your bondage to this world."
Semnemac curled himself into a ball, furiously shaking his head. Seyashen shuddered, then began making sounds of protest, tossing and pulling himself away from some danger at his feet.
"Then, speak to me as a prodigal of this house- one who stood between the lands of life and death," Aric urged. "Let me release you both from this suffering."
"There aren't any Shadar-kai conjurers listed here," Arlwynna fretted, looking over her shoulder to see Seyashen. "A bunch of Shadovar practitioners, but... no one at all young enough to sound the way the Nameless did in the palace. She's so young... she just isn't here... we might really be looking for someone else. No Cormite judge would have ordered the burning and stoning of a small child."
Thunder rolled within the cloud, pressing Arlwynna's hands to her ears, but Aric, unfazed, reached out one hand toward the cloud without even looking at it. "Begone," he rumbled with more than half the power of his voice. The echo of it in the room was nearly as strong as the thunder itself. The cloud retracted quickly, then disappeared, leaving only the tang of acid in the air as a reminder that it was ever there at all. "Who am I speaking to?" Aric asked, still using half of his natural tone, but careful to keep himself calm. "A young woman furious with her fate, or a little girl born into rage and fire?"
Semnemac stopped all motion completely for a few seconds, putting a dark glare into Aric's eyes that seemed to bore into his soul. Then, without warning, he tackled the scarred old Human, who groaned with pain. Seemingly happy with this, Semnemac sat atop Aric and tried to find what might hurt him the most. Arlwynna, able to see this, moved a single step toward the two older males before bare fear stopped her.
"You react very poorly to the positive mention of Cormites- and worse still to the one talking to you," Aric breathed, steeling himself against the waves of pain. "Cormyr has done wrong by you, hasn't she? What has she done?"
At first, Semnemac leaped up and crushed himself against the corner, then suddenly Aric felt a column of intense heat descent on him. He closed his eyes briefly, lifting his right hand up, folding the ring and pinky finger slightly and bringing the remaining three upraised fingers down slowly in front of his face as though he were splitting it in half. "Of no effect," he breathed. The sensation of being burned dissipated immediately, though when he opened his eyes again, he could see the walls of the column of flame around him. "Can you hear me, my daughter?"
"Just hardly," Arlwynna replied loudly. "That thunder- really hurt."
"There's no one under the age of thirteen, you said?" Aric asked, watching the column around him rage for a few more moments before dissipating.
"No," Arlwynna despaired. "And no Shadar-kai- but maybe... maybe she wasn't listed as Shadar-kai," she suddenly mumbled thoughtfully, running her fingers down the pages again.
Seyashen's moaning became outright wailing, and Semnemac's eyes darted to him at once.
"It's familiar, isn't it?" Aric coached, now sitting up with great effort. "The poisons, the agony- the fire. You enjoy seeing what it's like to cause that pain to others, don't you? You are avenging the fate of the one who would not harm others with her arts- but did she ever think to do that? To her own people? Her own family?"
Semnemac's gaze snapped back from Seyashen to Aric, but instead of being filled with rage, there was a look of uncertainty.
"I want to help you reach peace," Aric urged as he struggled to get back to his feet. "Daughter, stop looking for Shadar-kai. Look for Cormite female conjurers that were of childbearing age-"
"Talk to me!" Seyashen finally screamed. "Please! I feel the burning, I see the stones, but why don't you speak? Please, speak!"
"What if it can't?" Arlwynna suggested, watching the hornless Tiefling squirm uncomfortably on the palette.
"Questioner Seyashen, the spirit that you are trying to speak to was a Cormite, correct?" Aric asked calmly, deciding that he simply would have to wait for help to get back up.
"Yes," Seyashen replied, panting. "She hears you, she's shaking her head yes."
"Back to the beginning, then," Arlwynna said, starting at the top of the list. "She must have been executed for conspiring with Semmites."
"She dealt with Semmites, yes, but no, she isn't a traitor- definitely not," Seyashen breathed, trying unsuccessfully to calm himself down. "No, don't cry- don't cry. It was a mistake- she made a mistake. It'll be all right-"
"We know she didn't do what they think she did, little spirit. But what else should we know?" Aric whispered to Semnemac's trembling form.
"Well, wait," Arlwynna began, carefully looking through a few entries. "There are some women here specifically executed for infidelity. The punishment for that is public beating, then stoning, even if the woman is obviously pregnant. Better to kill the bastard than allow it to suffer through life ostracized, I suppose."
Semnemac's gaze shot up from Aric to Arlwynna, who didn't even realize that she'd insulted a spirit present in the room. Aric noted the drastically changing countenance and raised his right hand at once. "Her pain will not satisfy you- our lives are not enough for you." Semnemac's eyes shot back to Aric, seizing his spirit and draining power at once.
"No, no- stop, little girl, she wants you to stop," Seyashen replied. "She wants to comfort- no, to protect-? What? Don't cry, please don't- wait- oh! Her tongue- it's... just gone..."
"Okay...?" Arlwynna began, turning her body around so that she could really go over the scroll closest to her.
"Female Cormite conjurers- perhaps even necromancers- early in childbearing years, who had their tongues cut out," Aric replied wearily, warding himself against the spirit's entropic force. "Punishment for treason, usually..."
"There's only one- and she is a necromancer. She was tortured, whipped, stoned and burned, instead of just burned," Arlwynna murmured, almost to herself. "And by the goddess- at just fifteen years old. Only her first name appears- Abethann."
"Yes," Seyashen agreed immediately. "That's her name."
"She was publicly disowned," Aric sighed sadly. "The Nameless, indeed. Both mother and child could claim such a title."
"Stoned for infidelity," Arlwynna mused. "Which I suppose is understandable, but tongue cut out for- conspiracy? High treason- how could she have done that at fifteen? They did this all in front of the whole town- as though torture death sentences were great sport."
"Depending on the populace, it is sport," Aric sighed, nearly to himself.
Semnemac leaped up suddenly, stretching out his hand and attempting to inflict boils on Arlwynna. Seyashen sat up and leveled a dread gaze on his tutor. "See your death," he pronounced gravely. Semnemac looked at Seyashen with surprise, and when he did not show any sign of fear, Seyashen became confused. Aric twisted his hand in the air, binding Semnemac without having to say a single word.
"Well, don't worry, Abethann," Seyashen whispered after a few moments. "It's Aric who stopped her- my spell- failed."
"Not because of its caster. For all intents and purposes, my son, you're speaking directly to Abethann's daughter," Aric explained. "Semnemac uses his own body as a conduit for spirits, instead of merely speaking to their spectral forms, as you do. It's extremely effective, especially if the spirit was, while alive, physically unable to speak- but this method is also why his grip on sanity is...perhaps a little less firm than the rest of us would prefer."
Seyashen breathed, laying back down. "That would guarantee that the spirits are treated properly- that their desires are truly understood- and listened to- it's brilliant."
"I'm sure he'd disagree, if he heard you say so," Aric smiled. "He's aware that allowing an angry spirit with extreme magic tendencies to have full reign in a fully functional body that is already very much attuned to high-level magic practice is... perhaps a bit more dangerous than brilliant. He expends a great deal of energy choosing which spirit may enter, and then controlling it once it does. This child is a true necromancer- for all his trust in me- in the man I was, anyway- Semnemac hasn't allowed her to do half of what she wanted."
Semnemac sat down, looking around himself with curious and fearful eyes. Seeing this, Arlwynna walked over and sat at Seyashen's feet, a short distance away from Semnemac.
"Hey, little girl- hi!" the Shadar-kai smiled, waving a hand in salutation. "Remember me? I'm Wynnie! I told you stories, remember? About my great-grandmother?"
Semnemac blinked a few times, then recognition crashed over his face, bringing with it a radiant smile.
"Oh, Abethann likes that," Seyashen reported. "I'm sure she knows it's Master Inquisitor Semnemac, but she's enjoying the smile, nonetheless. She's close to you- looks like she wants to comfort you, because of Miye."
"I'd be satisfied if we didn't have to call the poor waif 'little girl' or 'Nameless,' " Arlwynna noted.
"Who says you have to?" Aric protested. "You've clearly laid solid groundwork with her- why don't you name her?"
"Oh, I- I don't know if that's my place," Arlwynna managed, visibly crumpling. "I just got here- I- I can't speak with the dead, or do necromancy. All I do is make potions, do a little divination- that's it."
"No, Abethann likes the idea," Seyashen urged. "She really likes it- please, do it for her."
Semnemac scooted himself over to Arlwynna, taking her hand and looking into her eyes. In his gaze, Arlwynna saw the beautiful crystal palace in which she told stories to a child too far to touch- or that she thought had been.
"He is brilliant," the half-Drow nodded. "I didn't understand, until now. That place- you weren't lost in it; you were it. Is that right?"
Semnemac nodded slowly, his chin tucked nearly to his chest as he did so.
"How about... Te'valshath? It means 'lovely palace'- because it was so beautiful, and I'm sure you are, too."
Semnemac looked over to Seyashen, who paused a few moments before nodding. "Abethann agrees," he reported.
"Abethann and- Te'valshath- are both here- literally in the stone of this place. This town is their focus- it's where they died, and they have unfinished business here," Aric sighed. "It's clear that Abethann was merely trying to get a message to a mage who would listen- it's the daughter who is the one most in danger of becoming a true wraith. Her rage is understandably fierce."
"Abethann is from Marsember," Arlwynna offered. "We can go back to the birth records and see if there's an Abethann whose birth is recorded fifteen years before this date."
"The Stonerows," Aric sighed, remembering. "They're on the second floor, right side, all the way on the far wall. All official Cormite records, as well you know, should have a dragon seal on them."
Arlwynna curtsied, then let herself out of the study room. Aric watched the doors close.
"So many years, and not a speck of dust out of place." The grey eyes perused the room until they fell upon an unfamiliar journal. Semnemac made a whining noise, wrapping his arms around himself nearly instantly.
"That's out of Arlwynna's shop," Seyashen explained. "The Phoenix had captured her because they thought she might be able to help them get in contact with the spirit who was causing the nightmares. Apparently, while there are quite a few petty necromancers, there aren't many of them skilled, or even trained, in divination."
"You say 'petty necromancers,' " Aric began, moving slowly toward Seyashen. "What do you mean by that?"
"They use spirits like anybody would use a hammer, or a wheel," Seyashen explained. "No respect, no care for their wishes or needs. All they care about is power. Many mages were getting the messages, but no one was acting on them."
"Well," Aric nodded as he sat in Semnemac's chair and began to look through the journal. "Semnemac must have received them as well, but waited to embody this child until he had help- a kind of help beyond that which I could offer. The path of Afflux has done you well. May it continue to make a responsible bone rattler out of you."
"I'll still end up a dangerous lich in a cave somewhere, won't I?" Seyashen smiled sadly.
Aric closed the journal and looked over his shoulder at Seyashen. "The threads of fate are just that- threads. They twist. They strain. They get dirty, but they can be cleaned. And the pattern, the great tapestry that the Queen herself was fated to weave- it can change. But have faith, Questioner- your fate may be brighter than any of us could imagine."
"Can faith and inquiry exist together?" Seyashen mused, almost to himself.
"That is an excellent question," Aric conceded. "And one whose answer changes from soul to soul."
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