Sweet Dreams Ruined by Selise…
27
FEB/21
Vashir waited until Oni was sound asleep before casting aside the hyena skin blanket and began quietly working his way down to the watering hole. The moon was high in Bhaalgnar, full and bright, its light painting the golden desert sand in a soft, silvery hue. It would be difficult for anyone to sneak up on them in the oasis in this light, so Vashir allowed himself to relax a little at last, for maybe the first time since they had faced the White Rider.
Vashir pulled his lion skin cloak tighter against him as he made his way to the water in a futile effort to provide some semblance warmth against the biting nighttime chill. Blistering hot days and freezing cold nights, over and over, ad infinitum. It was a wonder that anyone survived in this harsh and brutal world.
He knelt by the still water of the oasis and cupped his hands to take a drink, when he stopped suddenly at the reflection staring back at him. Who was this man? This Stranger? The reflection looking back at him in the gently swaying water was utterly foreign to him: lion’s skin pelt pulled over his head, straggly black beard flecked with gray that hung low from his chin, and skin charred bronze, and creased with wrinkles and stained with sweat and dirt brought about by months traveling under the harsh summer sun. And those eyes…even the eyes were different. The last time he had seen his eyes they had been burned of all color, just two featureless white voids in the middle of his face. Now the irises were evident, two blue rings growing out of an icy nothingness. They now resembled normal eyes at least, but they were not his eyes. This person must be the Mar’iya everyone spoke about. These were not the narrow, focused front facing eyes of a predator, these were the wide, suspicious eyes of a beast of prey; the eyes of a creature destined to be consumed.
Vashir focused on the reflection in the water and willed his appearance to change with an exertion of psionic energy. As he focused, he attempted to recall the glory of his former station in life: the pompous noble; the fierce hunter; the apex predator. As he stared at the strange apparition looking back at him in the cool water, he noted with satisfaction that the figure began to change: his disheveled long hair shortened and styled itself; his scraggly beard closed in on his face, becoming short, tight, and neat; his skin changed texture and tone to one more suited to civilized climes; and his eyes darkened and narrowed. He removed the foul lion’s head from his scalp and beheld himself – the real him – reflecting back at himself from beneath the rippling water with a look of primal satisfaction. Vashir, the Forgotten Man. He held this face in place as long as he could, feeling the rush of power and authority – and was that a hint of betrayal? – that the appearance brought with it, before finally relaxing and allowing Mar’iya to return. He would need to learn to change faces more quickly and for a longer period of time if they were to elude what was hunting them, he calculated. At least this primitive form might distract anyone hunting for the Templar Vashir, as this figure bore only a passing semblance to his former self.
Vashir drank deeply from the cool oasis water and returned up the hill to where David and Oni were sleeping. David did not need to sleep, just as Vashir did not. Not anymore. It was a testament to their psionic prowess, but the enormity of the pressure in remaining awake and alert at all times was emotionally taxing. Being constantly on the lookout for danger had a tendency to make them paranoid and intemperate and irrational. Sleep was at once a luxury they could not afford – not while She was hunting them – but also a necessity at times. Besides, they both missed dreaming. Dreams were where they could hope to escape the enormity of the burden they bore, but more often than not these worries would find them in the sleeping realm as well. But, dreams were also where they could perhaps see lost loves in the flesh for a beautiful, fleeting time; and for that chance, it was worth it. Vashir hoped that David was dreaming of Sora and better times as he settled in beside his companions and adjusted the purple wormhide tarp over their heads. The moon was moving to Nuatuhl soon, so soon Her eyes would be looking for them again.
Vashir fished the gemstones out of the ratskin pouch and held them in his weathered hands, sorting through them to find the perfect one. There were five stones, of immaculate cut and clarity, one red, one clear, one dark, one green, and one vibrant blue. He wished he had studied crystals in his time at the Ecclesiastarium, but he had never wanted to be beholden to a focus. His power relied on pure psionic will, and not parlor tricks and fortune-telling after all. That is what he told himself then. But witnessing what the fearsome High Inquisitor and his paramour Lyra could do with crystals, he realized that he had missed the mark with his prejudices. Instead of being reliant on a focus for your powers, these stones could harness and direct and store your mental energy to deadly effect. He had always meant to learn, but he had run out of time…
Now, hunted by a Goddess and her followers, who numbered nearly the entirety of the world, Vashir knew that their protection relied upon his ability to shield them from view. And he suspected that the only way to do this was to turn a crystal into a manifestation of his desire. He cursed his foolish younger self again as he replaced four of the gemstones in the pouch, keeping the brilliant ruby out for an experiment. All of the other Psions used crystals, and not gemstones, yet he was unsure of the difference between the stones. Perhaps crystals resonated better with the harmonic frequencies, but perhaps a gemstone could work almost as well?
He held the stone between his fingers and sat cross-legged in the sand. He stared intently at the brilliant red ruby, focusing his will and desire into the lifeless gem. The stone was a void; a receptacle; a hungry vessel, yearning for sustenance. He tried to satiate this hunger with his psionic will. Feed it. Nurture its desire. He poured his energy into the stone and felt elated as it warmed to his mental touch. It is willing, he thought excitedly, and he began to concentrate more. He focused on his own ability to hide from sight; and on his ability to read the hidden thoughts of those around him. The red stone was hesitant, and full, resistant to his insistence that it take in more. Still he persisted. He tried to expand his thoughts, focusing on his ability to hide his companions from sight as well. The stone pulsated and glowed with a slight crimson light, then shuddered slightly in his hands. He pulled back his mental probing, but the ruby kept vibrating in his hand for a moment before stopping. He could feel his Will seeping out of the crimson stone, like sand running through his fingers. He tried to contain some of the energy within the stone, but soon gave up the effort. Vashir looked at the gemstone when he was finished. It was still intact, but now had a cloudy hue to it that had not existed before; like a fragmented ghostly impression of his desires remained within, intangible and trying to remember what it had been told, but unable to hold a single thought.
Vashir sighed dejectedly. He uncrossed and stretched his legs out and leaned back on his palms, and stared off into the horizon. He would need to get a crystal of good quality if he was to have any chance of success. Raam was the best chance of that, yet he was not very familiar with the City. Perhaps Lady Gardiward could be of assistance, if she was still amenable to helping them. He hated leaning on people – reliance inevitably led to betrayal from his experience in the Crimson City – yet he had little choice in the matter. Allies were rare as water these days.
His ears perked up as he heard Audun working his way towards their camp. He turned to face the old man and spoke to his mind. Yes, what it is Audun?
I cannot sleep, we are going to make our way to the pyramid on the morrow, but I wanted to offer to keep last watch for the night since we will part ways. Give you a chance to catch some sleep before you depart?
It had taken the man a while to get used to these silent conversations, but they did not chill Audun as much as they used too. Still, Vashir read the man’s hidden thoughts out of an abundance of caution. Instead of seeing a bedrock of fear and uncertainty, Vashir now found fertile soil of hope and faith within. The seeds that Oni had planted were beginning to take root.
That is kind of you, Vashir responded in Mar’iya’s voice. I could use the rest, he lied.
Audun bowed slightly and moved up to the top of the hillock, looking out, away from the still, cool waters of the oasis.
Vashir laid down upon his back and stared at the purple skin overhead, which swayed hypnotically back and forth in the persistent night wind. They would be in Raam soon, so long as they could avoid Her gaze. Light knew what they would find there when they returned. They had so much to do…the thought was interrupted as he yawned deeply, as the exhaustion of five days of hypervigilance washed over him in a wave. He thought of shifting his psionic focus to force himself to stay awake, but changed his mind and allowed the darkness to softly enfold around him. He hoped that he would dream of other things: of a soft bed and silken sheets; of a life of privilege and prestige; of taking flight in the morning sky with Lyra by his side. He rolled the dice and allowed sleep her victory.
But he did not dream of softness or splendor or Lyra’s winsome smile. He dreamt instead of a figure in white, riding astride a scaled alabaster steed, which frothed liquid ice from its fanged maw as it tore across the crimson desert sand. Searching; hunting; a predator after prey…