War Post the Second
[Day 12, 20:30]
Nacht picks his way carefully along the rocky paths and I take a moment to be grateful for his enhanced intelligence. I am too caught up in my worries over what has happened to pay much heed to the terrain. The lines are ragged; brave but despairing soldiers hold the lines bravely against overwhelming magical aggression. The flow of power is erratic and I can feel my hackles rising. I carefully channel a little more power into the array of shields and buffers between here and the castle. My own shields hold sufficiently to conceal my presence but the longer I am here, the less likely it seems that there is indeed another Shinou (Fates preserve, but even thinking of two Shinous is disconcerting enough) behind this.
Well... directly behind it, anyway.
Fifty of the strongest Maryoku users with the army were drained almost to the point of death. I have talked with the healers and lent my own power to restore them - studying the means of the drain as I did. Whoever this woman is, she has knowledge and control far superior to most - knowledge that I cannot conceive any Shinou sharing. The ability to reuse the power, even tainted as it was with the touch of the original wielder....this suggests that this woman enjoyed (or enjoys) a position of great trust with her Shinou. There is nothing to suggest a Shinou's personal involvement. I have inspected every line, every encampment and every one of the enemy positions I can see.
I have kept every sense alert to the slightest hint and still....nothing.
It may be that he is here and tightly shielded but my doubt grows with each passing minute.
Even with five hours of travel between us, I can sense Alarik. Not as clearly as I could when we were both in the castle but still, there is a lingering sense of another. I had attributed it to that farce of a resurrection but now, I wonder if I was mistaken. There is a resonance, an echo of my own powers that remains forever on the edge of my awareness. The more I think on it, the more I begin to believe that it is simply a side effect of the two of us being forced to co-exist in the same world.
I have never had to think to use my powers. They are as integral to me as my heartbeat or my breathing and as unique. I have watched and guarded and shepherded everyone of my subjects to gain or use magical power but even Edwyn has never truly been my match. I have gone from being the sun of my own world to a distant star in this one...perhaps it is a childish arrogance that makes me so easily unsettled.
I pause on a hilltop and look out to where the sea glitters in the light of the rising moon. Nacht's tail swishes lazily at a few hopeful flies and dips his head, content to rest for a moment. I clap a hand to the solid muscle, feeling Nacht's heat and pulse under my hand. He has born me a great distance and I project a sense of apology that I am keeping him a while longer from his well-deserved rest. The enemy's camp fires start to light, a static galaxy of redden stars. Rage surges up in a sudden dizzying wave and I am suddenly furious. How dare they?! How dare they invade? How dare they torture and murder their way inland?
I smile and lift a hand towards the distant sea. Tendrils of power creep out and the wind strengthens as I reach out to call up the spirits sleeping in the sea. The waves break apart into a thousand little ripples and mist rises silently from the water and billows slowly towards the land. I half-close my eyes, shaping the web of power to my will and my command.
::Let no word pass, let the path of return be sealed. Let Silence be the only answer, no matter what they beg. So I say, so let it be.::
There is a shudder in the air and the moonlight becomes a sickly glimmer through the roiling mists. Tendrils of fog spread out as the mist creeps inland, leaving a thick coat of dew on tents and armour and weapons. Firewood soaks and I can feel the first flickers of fear through the enemy camp. Carefully I withdraw myself from the mist, letting it trail in. As I let my hand drop back to the reins, I allow the impressions of the Maryoku users who drew on my power to colour this conjuration.
No sense in showing myself too early.
It is not a sound or gesture that draws my attention back to my surroundings but the lack of sound. Kohi is hovering, all but motionless in the air, attention riveted on a copse of trees nearby.
::What is it, Kohi?::
Nacht picks his way carefully along the rocky paths and I take a moment to be grateful for his enhanced intelligence. I am too caught up in my worries over what has happened to pay much heed to the terrain. The lines are ragged; brave but despairing soldiers hold the lines bravely against overwhelming magical aggression. The flow of power is erratic and I can feel my hackles rising. I carefully channel a little more power into the array of shields and buffers between here and the castle. My own shields hold sufficiently to conceal my presence but the longer I am here, the less likely it seems that there is indeed another Shinou (Fates preserve, but even thinking of two Shinous is disconcerting enough) behind this.
Well... directly behind it, anyway.
Fifty of the strongest Maryoku users with the army were drained almost to the point of death. I have talked with the healers and lent my own power to restore them - studying the means of the drain as I did. Whoever this woman is, she has knowledge and control far superior to most - knowledge that I cannot conceive any Shinou sharing. The ability to reuse the power, even tainted as it was with the touch of the original wielder....this suggests that this woman enjoyed (or enjoys) a position of great trust with her Shinou. There is nothing to suggest a Shinou's personal involvement. I have inspected every line, every encampment and every one of the enemy positions I can see.
I have kept every sense alert to the slightest hint and still....nothing.
It may be that he is here and tightly shielded but my doubt grows with each passing minute.
Even with five hours of travel between us, I can sense Alarik. Not as clearly as I could when we were both in the castle but still, there is a lingering sense of another. I had attributed it to that farce of a resurrection but now, I wonder if I was mistaken. There is a resonance, an echo of my own powers that remains forever on the edge of my awareness. The more I think on it, the more I begin to believe that it is simply a side effect of the two of us being forced to co-exist in the same world.
I have never had to think to use my powers. They are as integral to me as my heartbeat or my breathing and as unique. I have watched and guarded and shepherded everyone of my subjects to gain or use magical power but even Edwyn has never truly been my match. I have gone from being the sun of my own world to a distant star in this one...perhaps it is a childish arrogance that makes me so easily unsettled.
I pause on a hilltop and look out to where the sea glitters in the light of the rising moon. Nacht's tail swishes lazily at a few hopeful flies and dips his head, content to rest for a moment. I clap a hand to the solid muscle, feeling Nacht's heat and pulse under my hand. He has born me a great distance and I project a sense of apology that I am keeping him a while longer from his well-deserved rest. The enemy's camp fires start to light, a static galaxy of redden stars. Rage surges up in a sudden dizzying wave and I am suddenly furious. How dare they?! How dare they invade? How dare they torture and murder their way inland?
I smile and lift a hand towards the distant sea. Tendrils of power creep out and the wind strengthens as I reach out to call up the spirits sleeping in the sea. The waves break apart into a thousand little ripples and mist rises silently from the water and billows slowly towards the land. I half-close my eyes, shaping the web of power to my will and my command.
::Let no word pass, let the path of return be sealed. Let Silence be the only answer, no matter what they beg. So I say, so let it be.::
There is a shudder in the air and the moonlight becomes a sickly glimmer through the roiling mists. Tendrils of fog spread out as the mist creeps inland, leaving a thick coat of dew on tents and armour and weapons. Firewood soaks and I can feel the first flickers of fear through the enemy camp. Carefully I withdraw myself from the mist, letting it trail in. As I let my hand drop back to the reins, I allow the impressions of the Maryoku users who drew on my power to colour this conjuration.
No sense in showing myself too early.
It is not a sound or gesture that draws my attention back to my surroundings but the lack of sound. Kohi is hovering, all but motionless in the air, attention riveted on a copse of trees nearby.
::What is it, Kohi?::