Session 17

 When last we left our heroes... dawn had come to House Neras, and the companions gathered for a melancholy breakfast in Vianrei's kitchens. Yalafir was dead, his warning still undelivered; the Giver was beneath the king's own roof; and Thargash, returned from his unexplained night abroad, had much to say about eggs and bread and breakfast wine, and very little about the business that had brought them there. Ineia reminded him of the promise with which he had first drawn them into his affairs: he owed them the truth about the elders of Cheykor.

Before that truth could be spoken, the companions remembered the watcher behind Inayin's blood-weeping eyes, and Herek took him outside. Then Thargash accused all three elders of complicity in the Vulture Cult, naming Eldress Falaru as the most inventive of them. She had paid him to investigate the Bell of Time, he said; the cult sought a road into the past by which the forging of the Sword of Kings might be prevented and all the history of Amboria changed. In the river of time from which he came, their conspiracy had failed. Reiana of the Red Isle might tell them more, though the companions could only answer that their own mistress had vanished months before.

Ineia asked him to come home with them. Their age stood upon the brink of civil war, and she would have his help rather than see him hazard another world in pursuit of the one he had lost. Thargash could promise neither that their home would survive his working nor that the river into which they returned would be the river they had left. He spoke of theories, of worlds so nearly alike that no one might know the difference, and of the wife and companions whom he still hoped to recover. Ineia answered that his losses were not a reason to make her lose the people she loved.

At last he named the instrument he intended to use: the Anvil of Lanenomen, carried by Anaris in the caravan they had met upon the Jade Road. The caravan had reached Sothalkarr during the night, and his drunkenness had been a disguise. He had slipped out to watch its arrival. Anaris was now lodged at the palace, where the Giver also dwelt, and Thargash wished the companions to take the Anvil from her keeping before the final night of the feast. In the history he remembered, she had already carried it west across the Cheyth to the tower the companions knew as the Sorcerer's Tower. Its presence here meant that events had already diverged from the course he knew.

His first scheme was to gain entry beneath the cover of an audience for Yalafir's warning, take the Anvil while the king listened, and carry it to the Bridge of Jade when the stars converged. Ineia proposed another way: invite Anaris to House Neras, tell her what they feared, and seek her willing help. Thargash's reluctance to meet her proved to have a more personal cause. He died and returned, he confessed, remembering his earlier lives only by degrees; Anaris returned likewise, and in some of those lives they had loved one another. She wanted him to be her own Tengelbur. But for his part, his heart was given to another.

Outside, Lord Akdhēras drew up in his carriage and offered to take Inayin to the promised healing. Herek and Inayin declined the ride, but arranged for him to bring his remedies to House Neras after the noon meal. Then he asked after Rinsos, remarking upon the night's comings and goings, and departed. The two companions continued toward the shrine on foot, hoping to ask the priest more about the Bridge and to warn him of the lord's interest.

Fjalenar joined the breakfast council, still weary from the night's labour, and heard the proposal. The companions settled upon approaching Anaris before attempting any theft, though whether to ask her to bring the Anvil immediately or speak with her first remained unsettled. Thargash went at last to bed. Herek and Inayin were upon the road to Rinsos; Ineia, Tenuyala, and Fjalenar meant to seek Anaris at the palace, after gathering herbs and asking what blades might be had. Neither errand was yet accomplished. Above the waking city the same moon held its vigil, and two days remained before the jade door would open.

Session 16

When last we left our heroes... the first blood of the Seven Cities had reached Sothalkarr. Beneath a stone tree in the Jade-Cutters' Night Market lay Yalafir, courier of fallen Yalethkarr, pierced by arrows and hacked by poisoned blades. Ineia knelt beside him, and Inayin—drawing upon the hard lessons of wounds stitched in the monster-haunted North—showed her where to press her hands. Between them they arrested the bleeding and brought the messenger back to speech.

Yalafir had been sent to warn King Lasuyaran. Other couriers had ridden for the other cities, though he did not know how many had survived. The bat-nosed monsters were already abroad in the Hills, hunting those who had fled Yalethkarr and cutting down the refugees upon the road—women and children among them. He drew a bloodstained letter from beneath his belt, sealed for the king, placed it in Ineia's keeping, and fell unconscious.

The festival crowd had already divided around them. One voice cried that the guard-city had fallen and the gates must be shut; another answered that Yaleth's people had not fallen, but gone home before them. The watch ordered silence until the king had heard—but when Ineia repeated the courier's report, the officer dismissed it as a drunken Sothbori superstition and walked away. So the companions carried Yalafir through the singing streets to House Neras.

Vianrei received the dying man beneath the same guest-right she had given the companions and surrendered her own chamber to the work of saving him. She would not break the royal seal, yet warned that the message could not reach the king merely as a bloodied scrap in a stranger's hand. To vouch for it herself would set House Neras publicly against the Homeward and against Akdhēras—her dead husband's nearest kinsman, who had twice pressed his customary right to wed her. And if her love for Rinsos became known, the young priest would be ruined and she herself accused of betraying her house. Yet she promised that, if Yalafir lived to speak, she could arrange a private audience with the king at dawn.

Then began the long labour of the night. Lotus paste closed what wounds it could, but the poison fought every stitch and made the torn flesh yearn to open again. Fjalenar rolled back his sleeve and gave of his own blood until he went pale, and Ineia drove it into the dying man with the little bellows of the ancient physicians. Inayin remained at her side. At last the gashes were closed, Yalafir's pulse was faint but steady, and the pain passed from his face into peaceful sleep. They had done all that skill, courage, and mercy could do; only the dawn would give the answer.

While they laboured, Herek and Tenuyala climbed to Thargash's rooms. They found the door unlocked, the bed untouched, and the chamber empty. An open window showed the way their smiling guide had gone. Guessing that his secret purpose lay near the Bridge of Jade, they climbed the hundreds of steps to the shrine and found Rinsos standing among twelve pillars, reading the stars.

Rinsos had already perceived that the strangers were not wholly of his age, and that Thargash stood farther outside time than any of them—as though he had stepped out of one river of time and into a stream that ran beside it. Behind the shrine he showed them a door of solid jade, fashioned by the Stone Kings. It opened once each year at the thirteenth convergence, when the walls between the corridors of time grew thin. That hour would come upon the final night of the feast, three nights hence. Rinsos had read that someone would then attempt to redirect one of time's rivers, and had been preparing himself to stand against the deed.

 He told them also of a vision that had seized him at dinner: himself and Thargash in a chamber beneath a mountain of red stone, standing before a man who bore a strange sword and wore a black panther's hide. In that instant Thargash had worn the face of Tengelbur, Lord of the Road. Nor was theirs the only companion Rinsos had seen strangely. When he looked upon Inayin, he had glimpsed the face of a corpse and the mark of the Vulture.

Back at House Neras, Fjalenar put aside all caution and told Vianrei the truth. The companions were travellers from thousands of years yet to come. Yalafir's warning was true; the Giver was Orkon, greatest enemy of their people's oldest songs; and the beauty around them stood upon the brink of ruin. If they found a road home they would take it, but they would not abandon their hosts without warning. Vianrei could scarcely believe them, yet at last she did—and answered that even if every word were true, she would not leave Rinsos.

The young priest soon returned to the bloodstained chamber while Herek and Tenuyala continued their fruitless search for Thargash. He vouched for King Lasuyaran as a good man, though too hospitable to the Giver, and then delivered the night's worst news: the Giver himself had arrived at the palace. Afālnela's letters were placed at last in Rinsos's hands. He read them, took Inayin's face between his palms, and looked unflinchingly into the blood-weeping eyes.

The hurt was not a wound, he said, but a door—a window made thin, with something looking outward from the farther side. He could close it only from the Bridge of Jade when the thirteenth convergence came. Until then, the companions must assume that the power behind the mark had seen and heard all they had done, and had allowed them to come so far because some part remained for them in its malice.

Then Ineia told the whole bitter inheritance: how some Star-folk would become the monsters their descendants still fought, how others would be carried into slavery through the unnumbered Years of Darkness, and how a remnant would endure among the Sothbori until a Hero lead the captives from the dark hills and the two peoples became one. Vianrei wept and asked Rinsos what they must do if it were all true. He answered that they must destroy the Bridge of Jade. She promised whatever aid lay in her power.

At that moment the dawn kindled red upon the Hills of Jade, and Yalafir gave his death-rattle. For all the companions had done, the poison claimed him before he could stand before the king. Vianrei promised him the honours of her house and turned again to the unopened letter.

Then Thargash put his head around the door, still drunk and adorned for the feast, offering nothing of where he had passed the night. When the companions told him that Vianrei and Rinsos now knew the truth—and that Orkon waited at the palace—he demanded to know why they had burdened good people with the knowledge of their deaths. There were still three nights of the festival left, he said. Since they had ruined them in the cause of saving the city, he would at least insist upon eggs before beginning the day. 

Inayin's journal

            How does one get themselves into this mess? Time travel is the answer. I must say I am not a fan of it. This is the second time this as happened, and both times we have landed in the worst of situations. This time we are in the same city as Orkon! Not exactly the place I would want to be any point soon. I mean, I want to cleave his head from his shoulders but quite frankly, I am quite unprepared to do so right now, not to mention what would happen to history if we did so.

           Dont get me wrong, seeing one of the Seven Cities of Jade feels like stepping into another world, the wealth of Sothlakarr seems like a dream, every person is dressed like a noble, every outfit has enough jewels on it to buy a small estate, and by the Stars, the food is amazing. Still, even the thought of losing any of my companions due to time travel nonsense makes none of this worth  it. I am beginning to think Thargash does not know how to get any of us home. I suspect our best way home is the Bridge of Jade. And Rinsos also hopes  to heal my bleeding eyes at the Bridge of Jade as well, but all this happens in three days.

         In the meantime, we have to pray that Orkon's army does not show up at our doorstep till then, while also trying to convine our host to jump time with us, who is loath to leave her lover. I pray these time travel shenanigans are over once this is all done. I am already worried that we will be leaving Herek due to his decision to protect the  Waterforge of Panathfei/Kanle.

    Speaking of my eyes, Rinsos has stated that someone or something is looking through them and that they need to be closed. I am not for sure whether it is the Death god, Panathfei or some other. It doesnt seem anybody else does either. Though I suspect, it could very well be tied to the family curse  I have involuntarily inherited, and fighting the vulture priest only helped to expand it after having a near death experience with it. Now I have had a strange dream of Thargash and Panathfei, and am seeing the true nature of people who serve the Death cult. Neither is a pleasant experience, and not being able to rid of this by means I know how is even more irritating. I do take comfort that I have companions that I can trust, both Iniea and Flajanor has helped keep me grounded when I would have otherwise gone crazy trying to deal with it myself. And even though I dont know the others as well, their loyalty and companionship has been vital in our adventures, especially when we are running into vulture cultists trying to change the course of history. 

     Among all this, I am dealing with a curse and a possible enchantress Treain woman that is far older than anyone should be, at this rate I am guessing Panathfei is over 4000 years old. When I first told my companions of what had happened and how it ties into my family, I dont think I had ever seen Iniea looked so worried. The last time I could remember a look like that was when both our fathers were called out to Leil Yalir. Even back then I dont think I was spooked as much as I am now about it. I was aware the situation was not good, but the longer I have known about it the more it feels less like an annoying matter that can simply be set right and more like a gnawing dread that the longer it lasts the worse it gets. I think, if the forge is restored and cleansed would lead to fulfilling what needs to be done for the oath that my Grandfather broke, but I am not for sure. Part of me thinks I am going to have the slay the primordial serpent, or some other great feat. Knowing more of what has happened, when I make it back, I will be having a conversation with my father and grandfather when I get back. The sword I got from him, is of no consequence either, and the one time I have drawn it after realizing what it is, felt like it had an endless hunger blood, though that may be most magical swords, its favored enemy among my own kin, I am hoping Flajanor can actually find more on it in his studies, cause as it stands now it is just a cursed sword.

    I write all this while staring up a strange sky that awaits the impending doom of the seven cities of Jade, while its residents celebrate a feast, unaware of that their death and slavery approaches quickly, May the Stars guide us through the streams of time and safely take us back home.