Arcanum - Of Steamwork and Magic Ch. 01

"Right!" Virginia said, nodding. "Listen, I was inducted into the Panarri by a wise sage, a woman named Johanna. She's down, in the village, at the base of the mountains!" She jerked her thumb over her shoulder, towards the south. "She knows far more than I! She can clear this up." She paused. "Though, we should look for other survivors, right?"

"Right you are," I said, squeezing her hand, then stepping away. "This whole reincarnated elf business? That's all such and such we can leave for another day. For now, lets focus on the here and now." I smiled.

She beamed at me, picking up her staff. "That sounds exactly like something that he...who...that sounds like something the Living One would say!" Her eyes shone.

"How can you join a religion and not even know the founder's name?" I asked, shaking my head as I started to pick my way away from her.

"Hey!" she said. "Elven names are all five syllables too long and have at least six times too many Xs and apostrophes in them! Heh. Heh. Uh..." She sighed, looking miserable as we started to poke through the rubble.

***

Three grim hours later, we had determined not a soul else had survived. We had gathered the bodies and stood above them, looking down at them. I shook my head slowly as I held a small letter I had found - crumpled and singed, it had been penned enthusiastically by one of the new unrecognizable bodies. Wilhelmina had been her name, and it sparked a faint memory of a willowy, pale woman who had looked at me as if I hadn't even existed. And now she was dead, and her fiance would never learn of it. I looked at the letter, shaking my head. If I ever found him, I'd give him this. I tucked the letter up.

"Should we say something?" Virginia asked.

I shrugged. "A moment of silence?"

Virginia nodded. "R-Right." She clutched her staff and I crossed my arms over my chest. We stood in the desolate, mountainous pass and the wind bit deep. Virginia shivered. "Come on. We should find the altar. It will have more information than my...well, than me."

I nodded. "Come on." A distant wolf's howl split the air. "That is definitely a sign to make haste."

We started together, walking carefully along the rough stone and between the few scrubby brushes. Virginia used her staff as most people had throughout history - to keep her balance and help her step over rocks. I, meanwhile, never let my hand wander far from my revolver. Virginia, despite her robes and her inattention to the fine details of the Panarii religion, was quite able at clambering over rough terrain, and made good progress.

That is until she tripped over a half-hidden expanse of leather. She squalled out in shock, fell face first over the wooden spar she had struck, and thumped into the leather. I hurried forward and saw that she had fallen up against the strangest contraption I had ever seen. It was destroyed and smashed, but despite that, I could see the bird-like wings thrusting from a narrow harness of metal poles. That looked like a smallish steam engine of some kind. And were those propellers? Virgina scrambled to her feet, blinking as she looked down at the wreck.

"Is that...a flying machine?" she asked.

"A heavier than air flying machine," I said, slowly, stepping to the side. I knelt down, trying to examine the pilot, who looked as completely dead as it was possible to be. Not many could live sans their lower halves.

"And is that an ogre?" Virginia whispered.

"Yes," I said.

"An ogre built a flying machine?" she asked.

"I doubt it," I said, pointing. "That embossed symbol? That's the legend of Maxim Machinery, Caladon. They make machined guns for the Caladonese army and for the United Kingdom. And this ship wasn't shot down, it crashed. And that engine shows no damage save from the impact." I made a face. "The ogre crashed the bloody thing."

Virginia, meanwhile, had her hand on a rock to keep herself balanced and was reaching out with her staff. She hooked something that glittered around the ogre's neck, then lifted and yanked the staff back. She plucked the amulet she had freed from the ogre's slanted head, then held it up for me to see. It caught the fading sunlight and glittered: A small bronze circle, with a pentagon pattern embossed across it, with a single eye engraved in the center of the pentagon.

"Have you ever seen that symbol before?" she asked.

"No," I said, quietly. "But I'm remembering the last, rambling words of a dying gnome and I'm beginning to think that the evil might be more than just paranoia." I took the amulet.

Virginia blushed. "So, I may not know much about the legends...but I'm fairly certain I'd remember flying ogres." She bit her lip.

"We should get to your Elder Johanna," I said, my voice grim.

She nodded.

The two of us started away from the wreckage and Virginia gasped out in excitement. "There! There it is!" She said, thrusting out with her staff. I saw what she was pointing at: It was a carved piece of rock, set on a plinth, almost directly across from where the Zephyr had crash landed. We approached and Virginia brushed some ingrown moss off the ancient looking stone shrine. I leaned forward and read off the letters carved into it.

And the spirit of Nasrudin shall be reborn on wings of fire in hills shrouded in fog,

and fight the last battle with the evil one.

"Well, at least we now know what you're supposed to be called, right?" Virginia asked, smiling at me.

I frowned. "Nasrudin? It doesn't exactly suit me. A tad stuffy don't you think?"

"H-Hey!" Virginia squeaked. "Don't-" She saw the smile on my face and blushed, smirking at me. "Oh, I see, you're having me on."

"Maybe a little," I said, winking.

A snarl came from behind us. We turned as one. Virginia held her staff in two hands, with the grip of a skilled staff fighter. Her eyes had lost their wide eyed innocence. Instead, she had them narrowed and her feet had shifted into a combatant's stance. I drew my revolver as well - and saw that, in unison, about twelve wolves had emerged from behind rocks, through brushes, and out of shadows. They looked scrawny. Starving. And their eyes glowed a brilliant red. I pursed my lips. Virginia hissed.

"Magick," she whispered. "Which means-"

A purple figure stepped onto an outcrop of rock, holding a dagger in one hand. Their other hand flared and flickered with pale green light, swirling around his fingers. Faint hints of leaves could be seen, dancing between those fingertips. The figure was small and scrawny and had a very large head. I groaned.

"Oh bloody wonderful, the mountains have a kite infestation," I said.

"That's the shaman," Virginia hissed.

"I know. Maybe we can work through this peacefully," I whispered back, then lifted one hand. "Ho! We're-"

The kite chattered and squalled in their own language, then pointed at us with the dagger. Several other kites - these ones bright red and slightly smaller - emerged from cover, waving their knives. The wolves started forward, growling threateningly. Then they charged. I swore under my breath, leveled my revolver, and blew the shaman's brains out with a single, sharp report. The shaman sprawled and the magic in the wolves eyes faded. But they were clearly only being encouraged to attack, for even without magic, they still charged. Immediately, I saw that there were far too many.

Virginia did as well. She swung her staff in a wild arc and the wolves jerked back. With that momentary freedom from immediate attack, we both fled. I pumped my legs and Virginia hiked up her robes, exposing her ankles in the most daring way. I was fortunately able to keep my attention on the ground ahead of me, and spared a few moments to look back and fire wild shots over my shoulder. The ping and whine of bullets striking stone kept the wolves and kites from closing too quickly.

"A cave, sir!" Virginia gasped out, pointing.

I saw the cave a moment later. It had a narrow opening, perfect!

Virginia and I reached the cave with but moments to spare. Virginia immediately turned to face the wolves and the kites charging after us. She struck with her staff - not in wide, curving arcs, but rather, in quick, thrusting motions. She whacked a wolf on the nose, pushed another on its chest, and even parried the knife of a kite hunter who sought to slash at her legs. I, meanwhile, leveled my pistol. Virginia stepped aside at my hissed order and I fired three more times. One wolf's brain exploded, another was caught in the chest. A third was shot in the flank and whined, kicking. This was enough for the pack to retreat, leaving only the kites. And the kites were either braver, or far dumber.

One rushed at Virginia. She knocked its knife out of the way, then slammed the butt of her staff into its temple. The kite collapsed, twitching. I reloaded, my fingers fumbling bullets into the chambers. The kites rushed all at once - trying to overwhelm Virginia through sheer force of numbers. "Duck!" I shouted. Virginia threw herself to her belly and I snapped up my revolver, the chamber clacking into the gun.

My palm rode above the hammer.

I pulled, feathered, pulled, feathered, pulled. Three kites sprawled, dead as door-nails and smoke rose from my revolver in a thin strand. Virginia slowly lifted her head, watching as the last survivor ran for the literal hills.

She was on her feet, pumping her fist into the air. "You showed those bast-ahhh!" She cut herself off, looking horrified. "I mean...g-good hit, sir!"

I sighed, quietly, then slapped her shoulder. "You did quite well too, Virginia."

She smiled, shyly, then shrugged. "Johanna taught me how to fight with a staff." She held it up, then set it back down. "A-And a sword. And a few other things. Bottles! Once! Um, I think that was mostly a joke, though." She shook her head, then narrowed her eyes. "What all this then?"

I turned and saw what she was eyeing. The cave was narrow and damp. But the corner at the end of it had a ruddy red glow shining from around the corner. I frowned, sliding new rounds into my revolver after dumping the spent into the chamber. I snapped it shut and walked forward, Virginia at my heels. As we entered into the darkness, Virginia whispered quietly. There was a sudden flash and glow of light behind me. I turned and saw that her palm was glowing with a luminescent sphere of magick energy.

"You're a mage?" I asked, honestly surprised.

She smiled, shyly. "I know a bit of white necromancy," she said, nodding. "A bit of illusion. Nothing fancy."

I nodded. "Well, then. I'll tell you if I ever need to talk to the dead."

"Oh, that's black necromancy," she said, quickly. "White necromancy involves the healing of wounds, not causing them."

"That-" My words stopped dead as we rounded the corner and saw the source of the light. A corpse sprawled in the cave right next to a well made bed. Several huge rats gnawed on the bones and nibbled at the desiccated fingers. They skittered to the corners of the cave at the shine of our light, leaving the corpse fully visible. But what had transfixed me and Virginia was what hung above the corpse. A spirit, ruddy red and lit within by an internal fire, floated in the air. The face was a death's head skull, while the ribs were an open maw that showed nothing but a swirling flames between their tips.

"Please..." the spirit's voice echoed, sounding wracked and tight with pain. "Please, I beg you. Help me."

I looked at Virginia, then at the spirit. "Who are you, spirit?" I asked, stepping forward.

The spirit made an agonized scream. Virginia clapped her hands over her ears and winced while I gritted my teeth, trying to glare the spirit down. But the scream did not end. It merely went above the pitch I could hear, remaining only as a squirming feeling at the edge of sensation. My skin crawled as words poured from the spirit. "I am Charles Brehgo...I...my friend...we were traveling...priests...we helped...we did what we could...for all we met." It wriggled and rippled. "We came upon a witch. Vile. Witch. Her name..." Its skull-like head twitched like a shuddering clock, the hands writhing and flicking around. "Aribela. She cursed us. Cursed us. With madness. Madness My friend slew me and I am trapped...trapped...until the witch...is slaaaaaaain!"

I winced. I looked a t Virginia. "You're the magician, Virginia. Can a witch trap a spirit here?"

"It's...possible," Virginia said, quietly. "Making it permanent is tricky. It'd take a great deal of power."

I sighed, slowly. "Where is she?" I asked. "I can't let someone suffer like this."

Virginia breathed in softly. Her eyes shone as she looked at me. I groaned inwardly. She had already been confident I was this Living One. Now I was just confirming the damn thing for her. I shook my head. Damn prophecy and damn elves, I couldn't let someone in such obvious pain suffer like this.

The spirit rippled, then focused. And suddenly I knew the location of the witch. It had appeared in my mind, as solidly as if I had a map. I blinked, then nodded. The spirit faded before our eyes, shimmering away, as if it had exhausted its ability to manifest. I could still feel its pain, echoing in the room. But without the spirit's glow distracting me, I noticed that the cave had a bed and a small footlocker. It had clearly been used as a hideout. I glanced at Virginia, then stepped forward to the footlocker.

"What are you doing?" Virginia asked.

"Virginia, we're in the wilderness. A wilderness infested by wolf packs, kite tribes, and now, barmy witches." I smiled, then kicked the footlocker open. It squealed as rusted hinges complained. "We're going to need every bit of help we can find." I looked down into the locker, pursing my lips slightly as Virginia lifted her hand, shining the light down at it.

"What the bloody h-" Virginia stopped herself. "What is that?"

That?

That was dynamite.

I picked up the sticks of red explosives, then rummaged around. Among the detritus of the chest - which included rotten clothes and bits of leather - I found an old rusted flintlock pistol, enough bullets to keep my revolver in keeping, and a parcel that, when opened, turned out to hold a collection of grenades. There were some spare parts for various firearms as well, and a purse of gold coins. I started to tuck the belongings into my pockets and handing them to Virginia, who had enough pockets in her robes to hold just about anything. Virginia opened her mouth, about to ask me something, but I put my finger on her lips, silencing her. I didn't know what a spirit could do - and I already was fairly certain that this Charles Brehgo was some kind of liar.

Once we were outside, I saw that we maybe had an hour of daylight left. And barely that - the sun had dipped behind the mountains, leaving nothing but a wan memory in the rock strewn landscape. I looked at Virginia and she finally let out the question she had been holding on: "What kind of wandering priest wanders around with enough explosives to refight the Charge of the Dragon Knights?"

I shrugged. "I think that's something we'll have to ask our witch." I sighed. "Come on. I think it's this way..." I paused. "What did you say the village your Johanna is at is called?"

Virginia chuckled. "I already told you, si-" She stopped. "Oh, bugger. I didn't, did I?" She groaned. "It's called Shrouded Hills." She pointed along the same line as to Aribela's house. "It's that way."

"The we can kill two birds - or at least one mystery - with one stone," I said. "Come on."

***

The house of the 'murderous witch' was a rather nice looking farmhouse situated on the edge of a small plot of land. The terrain had been growing steadily less mountainous and more forested by the minute, and we were essentially at the furthest point where one could actually farm. Further away from the lowlands than this point, it would be too rocky. But further away from the mountains, you'd be too close to civilization. And this house appeared to be entirely self sufficient, in its design and its situation. Light shone from the windows - the warm, welcoming light of oil lamps.

Virginia and I approached the front door. I rapped on the door and glanced at Virginia. She was holding her staff tightly, trying to not look nervous and failing. The door opened and I found myself looking at a half-elven woman dressed in a thick white robe. Despite the thickness and the furred rims around the wrists and the collar, I could still clearly see her quite pronounced curves. Her bust was full enough that I immediately sensed an intense wave of jealousy from Virginia, who was clearly quite a bit...less blessed in that region.

The half-elf would have been beautiful, though, save for the deep, abiding sadness that had carved her face into a mask. All the light and life that would have shone in there and made her elegant curves and plush lips into something to marvel over was gone. Her eyes looked faded as she looked at the two of us. But then, to my surprise, I saw a faint flicker of life in those eyes and her lips twisted into a smile. She was making an effort, the poor dear.

"Hello, might I help you?" she asked.

I would have doffed my cap, had I had one. "Madame," I said. "Are you, uh, by any chance the evil witch Aribela?"

That light flared as if her eyes were coals that had been pumped by bellows. Her smile became more genuine as she chuckled softly. "I have been described as a witch a few times, but never an evil one. At least, not to my knowledge. Why? Who sent you?"

"A tortured spirit called Charles Brehgo," I said.

The light that flared in her eyes was fiercer now and her lips skinned back in a grin. "I know it's wrong, but I take great joy in learning that Mr. Brehgo met the end of his road so shortly after he destroyed mine." She paused. "Come inside. Let us speak before the fire of such things."

Virginia shuffled in awkwardly as I made sure to knock my muddy shoes against the ground to try and get rid of the worst of it before I stepped in. Once I had closed and latched the door, I saw Aribela shrugging off her robes. Beneath the robes, she wore a thin shirt and a broad skirt, clearly quite comfortable. Quite a bit more comfortable than most women would be willing to wear in public, let alone with strangers. Let alone with a half-orc. But she did not seem to mind, even as she took a seat before a crackling fire, sighing.

Now, with the light of the flames, I could see the faint signs of her age - a few wrinkles around her eyes, the streak of white in her black hair. She gestured to a chair, inclining her head politely as I took my seat. Virginia dragged a third seat over, looking completely flustered.

"So, I would offer you something to drink, but I'm a Priestess," Aribela said, smiling slightly. "I don't drink. That was where Charles Brehgo and his companion, Richard Fahrkus, first grew irritated with I and my husband's hospitality." Her thumb slid along her ring finger, where a wedding band did glint. I looked around, suddenly worried that a furious husband with a short temper would burst out, ready to blow me apart with a scatter-gun. But Aribela's next words killed my fear in the worst way. "But it was the treasures of my career and my golden holy symbol that led them to shoot my husband, shoot my son, and then shoot me." She frowned. "When I came too, my family was dead and the two were gone...and in my rage, I cursed them."

My eyes widened. "And that curse of madness made Richard Fahrkus turn on Brehgo?" I asked.

Aribela snorted, rolling her shoulders slowly. "I believe that was the curse of greed. No. My curse was simple and far more terrible..." She frowned. "Neither of them will ever leave this plane of existence. Ever."