"Klagar, you did what you could. On such a short notice, and without my direct intervention, I am pleased with the results. The rest of them can cause havok as they see fit. It will be a welcome distraction. With two of Seven dead, you exceeded my expectations. Take an extra two weeks pay and spend the time alone, I have several books to study."
Morgraine patted the stack of books with his gloved hand.
His bodyguard bowed deeply and exited his office, leaving him alone. Morgraine picked up the first book and examined the cover and spine. Definitely the work of a master, but older than he expected. He scribbled notes about its appearance on a parchment. His peace was broken by a hurried knocking on the door.
He placed the book hurriedly in his desk along with the others and spoke up "Who disturbs my chambers?" he said loudly.
A woman's voice replied "I have a message for you, open the door!"
Morgraine cocked his head to one side. This was so out of place it piqued his curiosity. He walked to a large reflective table and waved his hand over it. An image appeared of a woman with almost shorn cropped hair and dowdy clothing nervously waiting before a door, and repeatedly checking over her shoulder. She wrung her hands nervously, and then knocked again. Morgraine waved the image away and started returning to his seat.
"Begone" he said, "I have no time for games, go before I have you removed."
"Your life is in danger, the brotherhood is on to you."
Morgraine's smug expression sank. He strode across the grand chamber and flung open the door. The woman almost fell into him.
"Enter, and speak well. These might be your last words."
She stepped in a few paces, looking down the whole while. He slammed the doors shut behind her and walked around to face her.
"Well?" He said, his impatience palpable.
She stammered for moment trying to collect her words.
He reached out with lightning speed and grabbed her throat.
"Tell me what you know of the brotherhood while you still live, or I will take it from your soul." He squeezed.
She instinctively tried to pry him away. "Vur-eel" she choked.
"The name means nothing to me, is that all you came here to say?"
"He... nightwing... seven... books ..." Her face was red.
Morgraine held for a couple more seconds and dropped her to the floor gasping.
"I am curious..." he began conversationally, "just what you think you know. The depth of your wild fantasies is vast enough that I will consider granting you another minutes time. Sit, and tell me all you know, or I will make it quite difficult for you."
She crawled away from him until her back was against a wall. After a few moments she started regaining her composure as best she could, and stood for a moment and sat in the farthest of several chairs facing Morgraine's desk.
"Your 'group' - one went missing, and the Seven had something to do with it right?" She began slowly.
Morgraine stared at her from his seat across the massive desk, his face like stone.
She adjusted uncomfortably before continuing. "They killed one of the order of messias who had some important information? There are more people after that information than just your brotherhood."
Morgraine spoke quickly "Your yapping is producing nothing new."
"The Iopians - they tricked your man, Vureel, or whatever his real name was... he was working for them in secret! They gave him the charm, they call it, and he was theirs. He tried to get me killed, and tried to give them one of the Seven as a bargaining peice for something."
Morgraine laughed a cruel laugh.
"Oh pity you silly creature. I don't know how you found me, but it was a mistake. All that you might have stumbled into has happened according to my desires. I know full well the Iopians want what I now have."
She tried to stammer out a defense, Morgraine lifted his hand, and the spell was quick and efficient. She clutched her chest and simply stopped moving, and slumped forward, a confused look on her face.
Morgraine sighed. How could this much have gotten in the hands of a madwoman. Considering the levels of secrecy and magic being used to keep the brotherhood unknown, that some sort of simple slave might know something of them was deeply concerning.
He moved the body into his workshop. Perhaps another time he might study it to gain insight into the true name of her spirit. It would certainly be easier than asking her what she knew while she was alive.
As he carried her into the next room he caught a wiff of her. She smelled like rot, like old flesh, something dead. He didn't notice the singed hair and burns on her shoulders and head. He turned back after heaping her body into the workshop and returned to his books.
He shook off the strangeness of the visit. He would focus on this later. For now, he must memorize and destroy the books. There was too much risk that whoever this odd one was might know something and seek them.
He pulled out the tomes, and foregoing the notes, cracked open the oldest of the three and began reading.
A sound rang across his mind. Like someone snapping their fingers. It was a triggered spell. He felt a wave of magic surge from inside of him, forming a bubble around his mind. He felt washed with sudden confusion as he gazed down on the page. Simple runes, and simple drawings. Not even any words. He felt himself grow closer and closer to it. He gritted his teeth against an unknown force, gazing down with a cold stare into the very fibers of the lines themselves... there was something within them... he forced his way towards it, as he felt his mental block faltering... down, down, down until...
*pop*!
-------------------------------------------
The council watched as the blood sprayed from Morgraines head. Vureel let go of the magic, and the illusionary vision faded.
The eleven cloaked figures on the opposite side of the table stood.
They spoke in one voice. "After reviewing your work in this matter, we forgive your failure in Barsaive. Your additional riddance of a traitor to our cause shows us your superior capacity as a caster. We will lift your block on knowledge and memory, and reinstate you as a member of the Ancient Order of Messias. Your efforts to this end has been impressive, and you will be the first honored so."
Vureel gave a casual nod.
"That would be helpful, I couldn't quite jostle it all free. I am honored, my brothers."
The group took their seats again.
An obsidiman pulled the hood from his head. "Impressive work nonetheless, I have never had one of my subjects remember so much in this manner. I would like to share your technique when you have the time."
Vureel took one of the two empty seats calmly, and replied politely.
"Thank you, Grim Rock."
The figure at the head of the table stood and pulled back his hood. He had dark, scarred skin and a very guant and thin face for an Ork. He spoke in a resonating and deep tone.
"The scar placed upon the Denairastas must now be sealed with fire. Should we pressure the leaders, we will pressure Denairastas himself, and bring him out of hiding. Once free of the protections within his citadel, he will be easily dealt with, and his meddlings undone."
As the Ork sat back down, a human stood.
"I concur, Ghestalt. What of Musaf Sharif? Seven are loyal if anything else. From what Vureel has brought us, we know they seek him in Marac. Should he rise again, he could threaten Fashiir and his rulership in that provice. With the overgoverner calling for the expansion of our borders past Espana, he will not tolerate unrest on the southern coast."
The human resumed his seat, the Ork stood again.
"We must not let this come to pass. All attention must be on Iopos and Throal. If we release the pressure on these two kingdoms, we allow the Dragons to know our minds. Send a few observers, Vureel, as you will now control both the Keys and Mason's Blight, I suggest you use them."
Vureel smiled politely, and nodded.
"If the snake is rising from the basket, then we shall secure VN and see to it that the head is properly removed before it threatens the overgoverner."
The Ork then paused, looking around the room.
"For now, however, let us focus on understanding our next target, Denairastas. We have to complete the ritual Hefera has led us to. Such an opportunity is not missed."
-------------------------------------------------------
"Two gifts, for my dark lord."
The Orkish servant held forth a silk cloth folded over and bowed on the stoney surface of the great chamber.
Two burning red slashes appeared in the darkness, and focused on him.
A voice spoke from behind the Ork. Calm and smooth. "Three gifts, my lord." he said, motioning towards the cloth.
"Place them before you, creature of low blood." boomed a thunderous voice.
The Ork did so without hesitation. Almost as quickly, the two eyes darted through the darkness, the massive head of the great dragon moving a quickly as any namegiver might. Glinting grey fangs appeared for a moment, and the mouth consumed the entire Ork before he had time to know what was happening.
The Great Dragon only parted his lips to chew once, a screaming crunching sound briefly emitting out.
The other figure present, walked forward to the cloth, and gently removed it. Beneath it was a glinting golden sword and a book.
"Your weapon, my lord, and a book."
The eyes squinted at the items.
The room seemed to echo before the creature even began speaking.
"You have done well, my child. I see in your mind that these have come from many efforts, and much swift thinking. Take your sisters staff, Falseroot, and give it as a gift to your benefactor in Thera. They will make a powerful ally."
The figure adjusted.
"Master of all, I have given him the stone, so there is no need to return a gift to him. He serves us unconditionally."
The Great Dragon heaved a growl at being questioned.
"YOU FOOL, DO YOU NOT SEE YOUR OWN SCAR?"
The dragon's hand flung out and pinned the elf to the ground with the force of a boulder. The gigantic claws ripped off the entirity of his over-garments, revealing his bare chest. He looked down desperately, and there, below his ribs on his left side there was a nearly 3 inch scar. Definitely a heart-stone, and definitely applied with some force... he was lucky to have survived it.
The Great Dragon continued.
"The success of your efforts is tainted by the embarassment of your pathetic failures. Dare not question me again and live. Do and face death. Clean yourself of that. I will not have my children bring me shame in their existance alone."
