Private Tales Through the Mists

[Keyleth]

The whispers grew louder, almost desperate and pleading with the barbarian as Keyleth neared the completion of her task. They screeched that the woman was trying to kill him, that she was going to bind his soul with a spell, enslave him.

"Just a little longer, Mainlander. Hang in there." Keyleth uttered as she moved behind him, trying her best to steady her shaking hands. One missed stroke could easily kill both her and him. "Almost there..."

Kill her! Stop her! She means to kill you! Kill her.

Kill...

...her.

The voices continued on, frantic for Thren to act. Until finally, one familiar voice rang clear. It sounded as if Keyleth was next to him, whispering in his ear. Her voice soft and reassuring.

"It's okay, Thren. Open your eyes. Let me help you."

 

[Thren]

The Barbarian did not.

Mostly because he did not quite understand any of what was actually happening and the voice that rang out in his head could very well have been a simply mimic of Keyleth. There was no telling what was real, no telling if he was being tricked or trapped in some way.

His breath slowed.

Was it her?

Why would she not just speak instead of whispering in his ear? Lips thinned, and his fingers balled into fists. He resisted the urge to lash out, to open his eyes and run.

Thren knew there was nowhere to run to.

"What's the password?" Humor. It was the only thing he could manage in that moment, the only thing that he could find himself saying.

His throat felt tight.

 

[Keyleth]

Keyleth heard the man speak behind her, but she couldn't look away from her task. She was nearly finished and in a few more strokes, the rune circle was completed.

A brilliant blue light burst through the darkness, emanating from the runes that she'd etched with her own blood.

She expelled a soft breath when the circle didn't immediately explode, grateful that she managed to avoid killing them instantly.

The voice that had sounded so much like Keyleth gave a guttural shriek, something inhuman, and recoiled.

The desperate whispers ceased.

Utter silence fell over Thren.

Weakly, Keyleth pushed herself back onto her feet and she moved in front of the tall barbarian, cupping his handsome face in between both her hands -- one of which was still bleeding. Any sense of the malicious force dissipated.

"Mainlander..." She said his name, though her voice was strained.

She needed to know if she'd gotten the circle up in time.

"Do you still hear them?" In her even further weakened state, it was all she could do to just stand.

Runes drew their power from the medium used to create them, which meant her own life source had fed this protective circle. She may have lost her ability to use magic outright... but she could still summon it in her own right.

 

[Thren]

"I hear nothing." Thren said as he slowly opened his eyes, a frown touching his lips as he glanced around himself and then down at Keyleth.

Magic had never really been something he'd understood. He was not an educated man, not by a longshot. In fact he didn't even know how to read.

Not in common anyway.

It was why he was the butt of many jokes when traveling with other mercenaries. To others he seemed simple, barbaric. A world apart from what people were supposed to be. Magic was just another facet of that, another thing that he didn't truly understand. Still, he'd never feared it.

That counted for something he thought.

"What was that?" He asked. "Sirens?"

 

[Keyleth]

She weakly shook her head but smiled as relief washed over her.

It had worked.

She pulled her hands back from his face, swaying a little in place as the dizziness caught up to her.

There wasn't much room inside the circle that she'd drawn up, enough space for them both to sit down or curl up but that was about it.

"No... no. It was a... a mist wraith. I think. Creatures of old legends."

The runes still glowed softly at their feet, but every so often a spark of blue light would flare up in the air around them. It looked almost as if someone was reaching through a shroud that was left to hang outside in the wind to dry. This would repeat from random directions every so often, then snap away.

"It's still here." She observed faintly then swayed on her feet, stumbling into Thren's chest.

 

[Thren]

More magic. Wonderful.

Thren's expression changed for the worse, and he couldn't help but grumble to himself slightly as he wrapped an arm around Keyleth to make sure she did not collapse onto the ground and pass out. If she passed out now he'd very likely end up dead before the next dawn.

He wished that he knew more about magic, knew how to stop this sort of thing, but all he knew was how to change his form. The ancient traditions and rites of the Siruk did not help here.

It was too...magic. "How do we kill it?"

The Barbarian asked, reachin out with his other hand to make sure that Larik stayed within the circle. He did not want the Hound getting anxious and suddenly bolting. He was well trained, but Thren knew that even the best trained warhounds could get jumpy.

Especially in circumstances like this.

 

[Keyleth]

"I don't know..." She murmured, letting herself been supported by the barbarian for the time being. If she tried to be stubborn now, chances were good that she would simply fall unconscious.

"They're born of the mists cast by Spellweaver magic."

Her eyes closed for a short time, trying to rest as best she could while still standing. "It can't kill you outright. They're incorporeal but... it can convince you to do that or... other things. Or just make you go mad."

The boat rocked beneath them in the gentle current of the ocean, swaying in the waves that rolled past them indifferently.

"I'm sorry I couldn't do more." She finally said after a long pause, swallowing hard.

The protective circle was only a temporary stopgap to the larger problem. While the mist wraith could not reach them so long as they stayed inside the barrier... it also meant they could not properly sail the ship. They were trapped here, at the mercy of the sea.

 

[Thren]

For a moment Thren considered in silence, his eyes closing as he began to scroll through a lifetime of experience. He'd never read any book, never picked up a scroll, but he had seen countless battles.

Sieges, open warfare, even a dozen of assassinations. Thren would bet he'd been more magic than some wizards in Elbion. He'd never quite understood any of it of course, but he had seen it. The Barbarian tried to recall something similar to this, tried to remember the faintest idea.

Yet there was nothing.

The 'mist wraith' was something he'd never heard of, had never seen. There was no answer for something like that, not from him anyway. Larik seemed to whine next to him, shivering slightly. "Ah well."

Thren said in resignation, his arm tightening slightly to make sure she did not fall as the ship rocked.

"It was a good final night." He commented. "A good life."

A shrug rolled over his massive shoulders. "A man cannot ask for more."

The Barbarian wondered briefly if it would be best to slit his own throat. It would prevent him from killing Keyleth if the wraith broke through, and then perhaps she could make it out of this mess on her own.

It was a thought.

 

[Keyleth]

Her blue eyes fluttered open at the barbarian's deep rumbling voice and the sincere words that he uttered. A frown pulled at her lips and she lifted her head off his chest to meet his gaze.

He may have easily resigned to his situation, but she was not going to submit to some whispering ball of glorified fog.

"That was not your final night." She responded, shaking her head. "You've many more adventurous nights yet to live."

She paused, then looked down at the runes glowing at their feet.

"You... can take on the form of something you touch. Right?"

 

[Thren]

"In a way." It wasn't exactly that simple.

Thren couldn't have explained it if he tried, mostly because he didn't completely understand it himself. The magic of the Siruk was something that had always simply been there. Those in his tribe were born with it, every man woman and child. It was what had allowed them to survive.

Though also what had kept them so few in number. "It's a bit beyond that."

The words were cryptic, but really all he could offer.

Thren obviously did not understand properties of mass, density, nor the changing of molecules. Hell, the Siruk barely understood that those things even could exist. Never-mind the correct terms for them.

 

[Keyleth]

"Could you... absorb the runes in a way?" She asked curiously, tilting her head ever so slightly to the side. Her hair spilling over her shoulder from the movement.

Another burst of light rippled across the invisible barrier behind her, as if the Mist Wraith was testing the perimeter.

 

[Thren]

A frown touched his lips as he glanced down at the runes. "I don't know."

The very idea of it was something he had certainly never even considered. He supposed in theory it was possible. Thren knew that he could not absorb magic, but in theory the runes were not themselves magic, but instead an avenue for it.

So why would it not work?

"I could attempt it." Thren frowned. "Though there could be...consequences."

Ones that did not seem appealing.

 

[Keyleth]

"What kind of consequences?" She asked him hesitantly, glancing down at the runes that surrounded them.

The way she saw it, they were all but backed into a corner. There was a chance that she might be able to get the ship ready on her own and leave Thren inside the safety of the rune circle but... she was worried what would happen if she collapsed while away from him. She suspected the man would leave the safety of the circle to get her and there was no telling what would unfold if he did that. The outcome would likely be that they both ended up dead.

Either way, one of them was going to have to take a risk.

 

[Thren]

"There is a chance the runes do not react well to my absorbing them." A frown touched his lips. "My magic reacting with theirs."

He thought of another possibility. "There is also the possibility that in my absorbing the runes, I absorb their effect and it turns on me."

What would even happen then?

If these runes were some sort of barrier against this wraith could the magic turn on his own soul? The idea was unsettling to say the least, but...Thren knew that it was also the only option that they had left. He frowned for a brief moment and then shook his head.

"I suppose we will just have to find out." What else were they going to do?

 

[Keyleth]

"If it works... you may very well be able to kill it." She said in a low voice, still leaning against the barbarian to keep from collapsing.

She pursed her lips, trying to figure out if such a feat would theoretically be possible. The creature couldn't be hurt with conventional weapons, but at some point, people had learned how to battle the mist wraiths. Otherwise, they would have wiped out the kingdom when they first appeared.

Her eyes met his own.

"You don't have to do this if you don't want to... maybe we can try something else first."

 

[Thren]

Thren stared at Keyleth for a moment as though he were about to respond.

Then before she could say anything else the Barbarian suddenly crouched down and touched the beginning of the rings of runes. What happened next was...odd to say the least.

The line of the runes seemed to glow bright for a moment, then brighter, then they began to crawl. Like a snake the lines that Keyleth had drawn across the ground began to pull themselves over the ground and crept up onto Thren's body. They moved slowly, yet quickly. An odd conflict that seemed to carry on as inch by inch the Runes decorated Thren's entire body.

Lips thinned, and an odd expression formed on the Barbarians face as he took in a sharp breath.

Then he simply stood there. Runes covered him from head to toe, a soft ebb and flow of magic eminating from him. He stood there calmly, observing the lines that had been etched into his skin.

 

[Keyleth]

Once Thren released his hold on her, Keyleth had to carefully lower herself onto the deck to keep from stumbling or collapsing. She wasn't too prideful to admit when she was beyond her abilities. Trying to do something because you were concerned about your pride would only lead to you getting killed.

She watched the runes, etched in her own blood, slide over the barbarian's skin. It was a fascinating transition. He didn't make a sound, other than the quick intake of breath. Was he in pain? It was difficult to say with him, given the man's demeanor.

In the shadows cast by the dense mist overhead, his flesh glowed wherever the ruins had scrawled themselves onto him. He looked fierce -- a painted warrior of legend. Had there been a bard present, it was likely that many a song would have been inspired by the sight of him.

Nodding once to herself while Thren looked himself over, she gathered more of the blood that still soaked her palm and then she coated the edge of the blade in it. With the dagger held in his hand, the sharp edge gave off that same pulsating blue light.

"It will go for Larik with the rune circle gone. Be quick, Mainlander." She said curtly, knowing that they had precious little time to lose.

 

[Thren]

The mention of Thren's dog snapped him back into reality and tore his vision away from his hands.

Instantly he caught sight of...something.

He could not have said what it was, or even really how it appeared. Consciously Thren knew that it must be the mist wraith, it was what Keyleth had said. Yet as he looked at the creature he could not truly catch it in his sight. The things form seemed to shift and change, move and alter at an almost constant rate.

For a moment it didn't move seemingly waiting for something.

Then it caught Thren's gaze.

The two of them seemed to snap into action at the same time, Thren bounding forward off the deck and the creature bursting forward towards Larik. Runic hands grasped, pulled, and tore at trails of ethereal mist. There was a shriek that seemed to resound within Thren's ears as he grappled with the creature.

His fingers tore itself flesh, his arm cut its tendrils.

Thren fought, tore, and bit at the thing with all his might.

 

[Keyleth]

Having been so close to Larik, Keyleth had to quickly scramble backwards along the deck to get out of the way of the fight that had broken out. She could make out the vague form of the creature that Thren now struggled against, but it seemed as though he was doing a better job of spotting it now that he had the runes etched onto his flesh.

Whenever the mist wraith would lash out at Thren, its incorporeal talons would only skitter across his flesh as if it'd struck heavy plate.

It howled in frustration, confusion... and fear.

This must be the first man it's come across that could fight back against it. For something unaccustomed to actually fighting, it must have been terrifying. It's entire existence had been one of ease, preying on those who were powerless to defend themselves. Never before had it encountered an actual foe.

 

[Thren]

Thren tore it apart.

There was no other word for it. No other way to put the ferocity that the Barbarian put into his attack. His hands came together in ripping shreds, his fingers slipped into the mists and rended whatever they could grasp. The Runes etched into his skin burned as he tore the creature into pieces.

Bit by bit he worked away at it, reducing it to mere shreds of itself.

The Barbarian acted like an animal, a wolf that had gotten to it's prey. There was no mercy, no hesitation. Thren attacked it again and again until finally his fist reached into the very heart of it.

There he ripped something out.

He did not know what it was, perhaps the creatures soul, perhaps it heart.

It did not matter. The Barbarian tore it from the creatures center, grasping it in his fist and holding it for a brief moment before his grip tightened. The beast screeched in horror, and then suddenly exploded into nothingness.

 

[Keyleth]

Once the wraith was slain, the dense mists overhead dissipated and sunlight returned.

Keyleth looked up at Thren with something akin to awe on her expression as the man stood before her, breathing heavily. It had been an impressive display, to be sure.

"You did it." She exhaled softly, slumping onto her back on the wooden deck to stare up at... the blue sky above? That didn't make any sense. They should have been trapped in the thick fog still.

She felt dizzy.

Bloodloss and the draw of the runes, combined with the poison already within her veins, sapped her strength entirely and her eyes struggled to stay open or focus. Absently, she wondered if she would die. Her thoughts turned to what Thren had said to her when he accepted his fate earlier. That he'd had a good last night and a good life.

Could she say the same?

There was so much regret in her heart. So many whispers left unsaid, so many emotions stifled and hidden away. Could she really say that she'd lived her own life? She'd set out with that intention when she'd taken up her shield and spear but... things had gotten so far beyond her control.

Decades had passed her by, stealing away her time and freedoms.

She found that she envied the barbarian, and the peace that he'd found in what could have been his last moments.

Still...

If her last act was to defend someone she'd come to care for... she could rest easily enough.

A bird soared over the ship, dancing in the wind.

Free and nimble. Two things that she was not.

She smiled slightly.

"Mainlander... there's land near... look." She murmured weakly and raised her bloodied hand to point towards the spiraling gull.

 

[Thren]

The runes faded from his skin. Slowly they seemed to dissipate as Thren simply...let them go.

It was always difficult to do so with his magic. The abilities of the Siruk were dependent on transference. He had to move and shift things in order to take on different aspects. It was no different here as he began to shape and shift things back onto the deck.

Yet the runes had lost their power, so when he went take on his original aspect the wood did not receive the runes, and instead they faded into nothingness. The sensation was an unpleasant one to say the least, a feeling of skin prickling in utter pain and agony.

Then it was gone.

His fingers had involuntarily curled to fists, his face had contorted in pain, but Keyleth's voice snapped him back into reality all the same.

He frowned, glancing down at Keyleth who lay at his feet. "What?"

For a moment Thren seemed confused.

"Where?" She wouldn't know of course, but his head was cloudy. He couldn't recall where they had been heading, if it mattered...even what he'd been doing a few moments before.

What happened?

 

[Keyleth]

A tired smile touched the corner of her lips, exhausted.

Slowly, she lowered her hand slightly from the bird to point in the direction that it had come from. "To the west, dummy."

Her hand dropped down onto the deck with a dull thud and her eyes closed entirely, head lolling slightly to the side. If it weren't for the steady rise and fall of her chest, it might have seemed like she'd died.

She couldn't see from her position, but she knew. They'd cleared the mists, somehow, and been deposited near shore. If the land was to the west, that meant they'd cross substantially more distance than should have been exactly possible. She didn't understand it... but she at least she could figure out they'd made it to their rough destination.

 

[Thren]

The west? "Epressa."

It had to be, right? That was the only thing to the west of the islands. It meant the wilds, savage tribes, harpies, and everything that no one wanted to deal with.

Oddly though, he couldn't help but feel relief.

Yes, the wilds weren't great. They were dangerous and deadly in their own way, but at the very least they were familiar. Thren had been a part of more than one attempt to tame the wilds by a prince-ling or some such. Hell, he'd even helped a village get rid of a witch plaguing them there.

It was something he knew, something he could deal with.

"Good." He said quietly, squatting down besides her and gently running his fingers through her hair. "Means we'll survive to celebrate."

Thren wasn't sure if she heard him, but that didn't matter.

He knew enough about ships to guess that the winds would carry them to shore. It would likely destroy the ship, and beach them, but at this point...he didn't much care.

 

[Keyleth]

She was clammy to the touch, running a fever. Her eyes drifted open for a brief moment to meet his gaze when he ran his fingers through her pale hair.

The woman managed a weak smile in an attempt to reassure him, and she reached up with her uninjured hand to lightly grip his forearm.

"You ... you did well, Mainlander." She answered him in a low, hitched voice.

He was being oddly tender with her, which should have been alarming. She must have looked rather frail. The thought should have frightened her, but instead, all she could muster was pleasant contentment that she'd managed to keep her promise to the man.

She'd gotten him off Minaris and back to the Mainland.

She'd been able to give him another night to live.

It wasn't much, but at least it was something. She needed a win, no matter how small it was.