Chapter 8 : Centipede

Mnemon Rhomon, Sorcerer

Realm Year 764, Ascending Wood

Forest of Compassion, An-Teng, Satrapy of the Realm

“Say, cousin… That daiklave of yours, it’s not very useful for you, is it?” 

Unfortunately, even after escaping the party, his ‘cousin’ wasn’t so easy to shake off. Siata latched on with an earnest vigor, greeting them in the morning after the party was done with a servant and an array of food, asking enthusiastically about what their plans were, and inviting himself to come along regardless of what it was. 

Rhomon would say that he wasn’t sure how exactly Siata had managed to convince him of that, but that was probably the supernatural charisma of the dragonblooded in play. Either that or strange pity, because Siata seemed like the type who didn’t have any friends. Most of the people at the party were blatantly only there for the free food, drugs, and entertainment. 

Rhomon raised the visor over his eyes, taking stock of their surroundings again, then letting the visor slide down and glancing back at the manse compass in his hand. A thin line of bright yellow essence trailed off from its middle- an openable hatch on the side allowed him to store the chicken-egg sized gem of mental health within, and that gave the compass a ‘signature’ to work with, pointing them straight at the intended destination.

Monkeys chattered overhead, and the birds sang brightly and loudly throughout the jungle canopies, and bugs futilely tried to bite through his bronze skin. He had given his warding talisman against beasts to Brahm, who did his best to not look too thankful about it.

“Well, I suppose.” He replied after a moment. It was good that he found the daiklave, because the practice with it had given him the knowledge he needed to figure out how to properly attune to artifacts. Without that, he wouldn’t be able to use his new compass and visor.

But now that he had figured that out- he only had so many hands. Holding a daiklave as well as the staff and a compass just wasn’t going to happen. “Why, what about it?” He asked half-interestedly, pushing through another heavy underbrush with his staff and bronze skin, letting the rest of them follow in his wake. Brahm had his usual blank expression as they pushed through layers of bramble.

Bamboo, bayan, teak, and other trees choked the land, making it exceptionally difficult to move through the land at any sustained pace. They were making progress, on account of his bronze skin letting him push through any thorns and Brahms' heavy hand-chops making short work of bamboo thickets, but it was slow going.

His nice green and yellow coat was in shreds at this point. He’d have to buy a new one.

“Well I was just thinking- as a mortal, the daiklave isn’t very useful to you- but as a dragon, it would be pretty useful to me. What are your thoughts on this?” Siata gave a charming grin, using his own sword to slice through any branches that got too close to his fancy clothes. Notably, it was a normal, mortal blade.

“Is that a command for sir Rhomon to give up his treasure, lord Siata?” Shuri, the ever-polite, managed to word that question in a way that was simultaneously accusatory and without insult. Rhomon smirked in a slightly amused fashion, pretending to be immersed in the compass and their path ahead.

“Ah- haha- no not a command. I wouldn’t be so uncouth to command my beloved cousin around! We’re not in the legions, after all! Haha!” Siata’s laughter was just the slightest bit panicked, waving off the idea hastily. “I was bringing up the inefficiency, is all!”

A Daiklave was not something one simply bought and sold. An artifact blade wrought from one of the five magical materials, enchanted with such magics as to make it nearly indestructible and imperishable- as opposed to mundane enchanted blades, which would shatter against the strongest blows and lose their magic in a mere century.

The number of craftsmen who could make such artifacts was few. Even if the daiklave, a simple sword, wasn’t all that powerful or complicated as far as artifacts go. It was once common enough that they were built and stored in the hundreds, back in the glorious era of magic and artifice that was the first age.

Normally, a daiklave was given to a young Dragonblooded as a loan from his Great House, or as a gift from a fellow dragonblooded smith. The fact that Siata didn’t have one was perhaps indicative of his relationship with his family.

A daiklave wasn’t something one simply sold, and Siata trying to steal one from a fellow Dynast would be a massive social faux pas.

Naturally, Rhomon decided to sell it. “I’ll give it to you if you pay for all our expenses for a month.” He offered with a nod.

“Absolutely!” Siata took the deal at once, a wide smile on his face and eagerly nodding. Rhomon stuck his staff in the ground, took the sheath off from over his shoulder, great blade within, and tossed it over to his ‘cousin’. Five feet of imperishable steel alloyed with red jade, handed over like a walking stick. 

There was a kind of thrilled giggle that briefly escaped his lips, before he realized himself and coughed. Siata gave a gracious nod and smile in his direction. “Thank you cousin, I’ll be sure to put it to good use!” 

“Remember- you’re covering all our expenses for a month.” Rhomon reminded absently, frowning at the compass and looking up and around again. His eye scanned around as Siata immediately got to playing with the sword, going through forms and practice stances with an excited grin. 

“Why have we stopped, sir Rhomon?” Shuri asked, bringing his hands together and frowning slightly. 

“We’ve been through this clearing before.” Brahm observed with a frown and nod of his own. Rhomon nodded thoughtfully, staring at the path that they walked just twenty minutes earlier, then back around the clearing. The manse compass in his hand should be more or less infallible for finding its associated spot, so…

“Hm. Let me try something.” Rhomon muttered, making a heavy cross groove in the forest floor with the end of his staff. Then he measured one staff-length out, made another cross, then repeated the process until he was at the edge of the clearing.

Then he walked back to the starting mark and repeated the process in the opposite direction. Staff length measures marked by furrows in the dirt. 

“What are you doing, sir Rhomon?” Shuri asked with a tilt of his delicate looking head, a long black lock falling to the side.

“I’m checking my movements.” He replied, returning to the initial mark, then starting a new series of marks on a perpendicular line to the initial line of marks. “If my suspicions are correct, then doing this will reveal…” 

He returned to his initial mark, then stopped.

“Did you mess up your angle on purpose, sorcerer?” Brahm asked with a raised brow, looking at the latest line of marks. They were, instead of being a straight series of marks like the two initial lines, distinctly curved away and to the side. “Or have you discovered something?”

“Here- try doing what I just did, straight in that direction.” Rhomon said, handing his staff over to the monk. The monk raised his brow before nodding, stepping to the initial mark, measuring a staff length, making an additional mark, and then stepping forwards again.

The monk immediately paused, then glanced back. “...I see.” He replied, tone filled with understanding.

With the existing marks to guide him, the monk should’ve been able to simply step forwards, straight, and make a mark. Instead, his step forwards had him ending up exactly atop Rhomon’s previous mark, despite it angling to the side. 

“There’s a subtle ward in place.” Rhomon declared authoritatively, smirking in the self-satisfaction of solving a riddle he didn’t know was there. “Too subtle for any of us to notice- but it’s been directing us away from our target this whole time.”

Brahm walked back over, handing the staff back to him and scowling at the direction they were angled away from. “It doesn’t seem that powerful, but if it surrounds an entire manse.. The maker must have been quite powerful…”

The most likely ward-maker was a lunar exalted, one of the chosen of one of the most powerful gods to ever exist. 

So yeah, that would fit. 

“Like the ward you placed around the granaries of my father?” Shuri asked, to which Rhomon nodded absently, considering what he was going to do here. “I see- how are we to pass through, then?”

“The easiest means is to simply brute force the process, expend a great deal of power and effort, and thereby shatter the ward.” Rhomon began, then wiggling a hand. “If we could find the anchors and disrupt them, that would be much simpler. I haven’t seen anything like glyphs yet though, so…”

“Wards need maintenance as well, otherwise they rapidly lose strength. There’s likely something in this manse actively defending it from us.” Brahm noted with a frown.

“Maybe…” Rhomon muttered, thinking with furrowed brows. “We’ll start another loop around, this time looking for anything that looks like an anchor.” He declared with a nod, slowly walking along their previous path again.

“What would the anchor look like?” Shuri asked, shrugging on his own travelbag again and stepping to follow. 

“Salt, ash, statuary, sigils carved in rock- ward anchors can look like anything, it depends on what they seek to keep out.” Brahm replied, lifting his straw hat back and glaring around. “Look for any kind of regularly repeating feature- it's likely to be a ward anchor.” 

“It could be animals too- they train cats in the east to keep certain spirits away from homes.” Rhomon replied as a factoid.

Siata looked immersed in playing with his new daiklave, so they left him to it, making one long loop around the region of the ward, following the direction of the compass but being pulled along the edge. 

“Does that count as a ‘ward’?” Shuri asked with furrowed brows.

“It doesn’t sound like it counts, no.” Brahm declared with a frown, scanning the forestry and glancing up and down along the tall trees. 

“Sure it counts. If you can make a ward out of salt and stone, why not cats?” Rhomon raised a finger and waggled it. 

“Well, we thought that wards had to be stationary…” Shuri said, before reaching a hand up to cup his chin. “Though, we realize we know little of warding. Our people have never preserved much related to the art…”

“I saw that in the sample of rituals your father shared, yeah.” Rhomon nodded. “Lots of neat tricks related to calling and binding beasts, and potions that calmed the mind and divorced oneself from lusts, but not a lot of warding or enchantments.”

“Those potions are especially useful- Would you be willing to brew them on our behalf, sir Rhomon?” Shuri asked suddenly, a slightly worried frown on his face. “Each dose only maintains strength for a week or so, and without it we fear our restraint will be compromised…”

“You didn’t bring some when you left home?” Brahm asked with a raised brow.

“We did- but only a season's worth.” Shuri frowned. “We were worried of overburdening ourselves.”

“Sure, we’ll have ‘cousin’ Siata pay for the ingredients.” Rhomon nodded, referencing the compass again and scanning the vegetation around. “We’ll need a more consistent source of revenue afterwards, but that shouldn’t be too much of an issue.”

“We thank you, sir Rhomon.” Shuri nodded and smiled gratefully.

“You fear your lack of self control that much?” Brahm asked, reaching over to push a broad fern aside, fist immediately blurring to smash a plate-sized scorpion into paste against the bark of the tree. The monk pulled the hand back, covered in bug-blood, and frowned.

“We owe much to Great Mother Sadana, but her blessings are somewhat troublesome. Strength, fertility, and beauty.” Shuri shook his head with a slightly embarrassed tone. “It makes growth and expansion trivial, but such rapid growth would bring unnecessary conflict with our neighbors, so we must restrain ourselves to live in harmony with others of refined society.”

Shuri wiggled his hands. “As I understand, people of other lands do not have to struggle so much against their base natures.”

“Not as much, no.” Rhomon shook his head. “Usually less than they should, however.”

Brahm nodded sharply, a frowning agreement on his face. 

They finished around the same point, entering into the clearing that they started from. Siata went through another set of forms, before blinking over at them. “Oh- had you left?”

“Just another pass around the wards.” Rhomon replied, reaching up to take his crystal visor off and blinking at the treeline. With narrow eyes, he slipped the visor back on, letting the bright glow of normally-invisible essence fill his sight. “I think I found the anchors.”

He directed his staff up, pointing at the top of a tree a short distance away. Brahm squinted up at the tree, brows furrowed.

“I’m not sure I see it.” The monk confessed with a frown.

“Is it- that bit of stone poking through the trunk, sir Rhomon?” Shuri asked. 

Indeed, about fifteen feet off the ground of a particular tree, a section of its trunk had been eaten away by some creature or sickness. The removed section revealed a flat, polished marble. The polished marble shone brightly to the essence-scrying vision of his gifted visor. 

“...Apologizes I was enthralled with the attunement process with Red Wing here.” Siata stated, patting the daiklave on the flat. “What are we looking for?”

“There’s a ward that’s preventing us from approaching our destination.” Rhomon waved off, then started to shrug off his bags and necklaces, handing them over to the disgruntled monk. “We’ve already found an anchor- here, take my talismans and go fifty five feet back, everyone.”

“Why?” Brahm asked, slightly annoyed to be handed new loads.

“I’m about to use sorcerous countermagic- and if I do it too close to any of my talismans or tools, it’ll rip the magic right off them as well.” Rhomon explained succinctly, handing his staff over, shrugging off his chainmail coat, and shooing the rest of them back. “And it’ll take me weeks of work and quite a lot of wealth to enchant them all over again, so I’m loath to do so.”

They did as they were bid, Brahm giving a silent, annoyed expression the entire time. After ensuring they were far enough away, Rhomon turned his attention back towards the barely-visible ward anchor.

They had disguised it by planting a tree next to it, so the growth would overtake and envelop it eventually. Hiding its essence beneath the essence of the tree and preserving it from erosion. It was pretty clever- he made sure to memorize that trick for later.

He began to draw up on the motes of his surroundings again, building the strength required for the spell. It was always a bit slower to shape essence without his staff on hand- a sorcerous tool he made and improved several times during the Heptagram. After a few long seconds of wrangling free essence into the right shape- he released it as a hammerblow against the ward.

“Countermagic.” He intoned in Old Realm, gesturing forwards.

A violent ripple spread through the air. A sharp crack sounded out as the wardstone snapped in half, the tree that contained it suddenly bursting along invisible seams and slumping limply. His bronze skin was ripped off at once, tearing off his body and dissolving like strips of burning metal on the wind. 

Anything short of an artifact or greater sorcery was ripped apart by this spell. It made it frankly clunky and awkward to use, lest you rip apart your own wards and protections while trying to undo a foe’s magic. It wasn’t the only way to counter an enemy’s spells, thankfully, but it was the strongest.

A good way to even the field between yourself and your opponent, if you wanted to use it in battle.

He lowered his hands, exhaling. The wardstone fizzled and shone and smoke as it released accumulated essence into the world, power rapidly fading. He nodded sharply, satisfied, then turned to his companions. Shuri was politely clapping, and Rhomon bowed theatrically. 

He walked over to start taking his gear and talismans back from the annoyed monk. “Thank you Brahm.”

“Mhm.”

Shrugging on his chainmail, then his coat, he took his talismans by one arm and shrugged the two heavy bags over his shoulders again. “We’ll give the ward a bit of time to dissipate its essence, then pass through, I think.” 

“Marvelous, marvelous!” Siata laughed, before trailing off. “Say, cousin, what exactly are we looking for, anyways?”

“There’s an old manse here- I’m claiming it on behalf of House Mnemon, and will have need of its powers shortly.” Rhomon tilted his head back and forth. “So I’m making sure to clear it out first, take anything of value from within, and then start the next phase of the plan..”

“The plan?” Siata asked eagerly, hefting the daiklave over his shoulder.

“Mhm. There’s an old man that needs his mind healed, and this manse is a place that can do that.”

“Ah- wonderfully altruistic then. A real Immaculate thing to-”

“Wait.” Brahm said suddenly, shooting up and casting his gaze around, glaring into the underbrush. Siata shot him an annoyed look, and Rhomon blinked, turning his gaze towards the same point. “...Something’s coming.” The monk declared with narrow eyes, sliding into a martial stance.

Rhomon narrowed his eye, then slipped the essence-visor over his face again. The bright gleam of escaping essence lit the broken wardstone like a bonfire.

Beneath his visor, his eye widened, and he swung his staff around, virtuous guardian of flame crackling eagerly within. “Centi-”

A stampede of giant, furiously marching centipedes exploded out of the underbrush at about that same moment.