Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 352
Moirel
From the hall outside the cauldron room comes a loud and alarming noise of grinding stone, followed immediately by Flicker crying out, “Jackpot! Secret room!”
“What’s in it?” calls Dranko.
After a brief pause, Flicker answers, “Animal statues.”
“What kind?”
“The kind with gems in their eyes! Wait… don’t come in yet.”
The sound of small objects plinking to the stone floor can be heard.
“Well, gems in some of their eyes.”
“Guess what?” answers Dranko. “I stirred the pot again. It said “Flicker isn’t a d*ck.”
It’s a treasure trove, literally. The statuettes – probably Moirel’s private collection – are exquisitely carved from obsidian, jade and crystal. The gems in their eyes are flawless, and Flicker sets the value of the set easily in the six-figures.
Aravis ignores the gleeful exclamations of his more monetarily-minded comrades and returns to the study, where he spends the remaining hours before bed examining the reams of papers therein. His conclusion: the person who compiled them was brilliant, but knew nothing about planar theory when they started their researches. Assuming it was Moirel, she learned a great deal in a short time and was a quick study. By noting the handwriting on many of the papers, Aravis realizes that Moirel built her own set of basic planar theory books with very little to go on. From the dates on the papers, it seems she went further in her understanding of the Astral plane in less than a year than most scholars would have done in twenty.
/*/
In the morning, Moirel's condition has markedly improved. Ernie casts greater restoration on her, and color comes instantly back to her face.
“We should wake her up,” says Morningstar.
“She might still be evil,” Dranko cautions. “What do we do with her, if she’s not Little Miss Sunshine even without her Black Eye?”
They defer to Grey Wolf, since Moirel is his great-great-etc. grandmother.
“I agree that we should question her,” he says. “Thoroughly. Let’s get a read on her before we decided whether or not to let her live.”
Ernie mixes some herbs and holds a pungent wad under Moirel’s nostrils until she wakes. As she flutters back to consciousness, Morningstar tries twice to cast detect thoughts upon her, but both times her target’s natural mental defenses repel the attempt. With a sigh, she busts out the big mental gun and casts brain spider. It works, and Morningstar begins to concentrate on monitoring the thoughts of their prisoner.
Moirel’s eyes open, and flick back and forth among the Company standing around her.
“Are you hungry?” Ernie asks.
“Who… who are you?”
“I’m Ernest Roundhill at your service, but only if you don’t do anything hideously evil. Who are you?”
Moirel blinks confusedly. “I’m… Moirel? Yes, that’s it. Moirel.”
Grey Wolf leans forward. “Do you know where you are?”
“I’m… in my castle.”
Morningstar gets a clear indication of wonderment, puzzlement, and outright disbelief that the Black Eye is no longer overshadowing her mind. Having recast telepathic bond, she shares her observations with the rest.
“That Eye was not good for you,” says Ernie.
Moirel blinks again, then tries to stand but cannot. She is still too weak. “How did you get in here?”
“We’re very clever,” says Grey Wolf with a smile.
She’s thinking: They must have learned the real password. ‘Refuge Asynchronous.’
Aravis cannot help but ask, “Are you the one who was studying planar theory and taking the notes that we found?”
“Yes. Yes, but… what do you want here? Aravis. Your name is Aravis. I remember… dreading meeting you all. Was that me?”
“No,” says Aravis. “It was probably the Eye.”
Ernie hands her a cup of water, and she sips while he asks, “What is the last thing you remember from when you were really you?”
Moirel looks as though she doesn’t quite understand the question. “I’ve always been me.”
“But you haven’t always been alone,” says Ernie.
“No, I… it… the Eye changed me. For the worse. But it empowered me for the better. It’s all gone now, isn’t it? My magic is gone. I did it to myself.”
Kibi glances at the ceiling. “Was that the big accident that happened upstairs?”
While Moirel pauses to ponder the question, Morningstar shares more observations about her subject’s mental state. She has trouble remembering things that happened recently. Her mind is muddy, confused. She’s telling the truth that she’s always been herself, because something was letting her, but undermining her nature at the same time, bringing out her worst tendencies. Adding malice to her, and its own high-level agenda.
“There was an accident, yes,” says Moirel. “It was my last thought… to get my revenge. On his son, because he is dead. But I failed. The most important thing in the world to me… and I failed at it.”
When no one answers, she continues, “The Eyes are destroyed, aren't they? Not just mine, but all of them. Inivane failed. And that was my great hope for my father. I’m sorry you never knew him. He was a great man.”
Seven great heroes keep seven very straight faces.
“The funny thing about hope,” says Ernie, “is that it’s very difficult to kill. If you still wanted to beat him…”
“I’m out of options,” Moirel interrupts. “I have no magic left. I was one of the greatest wizards of my age, and now…”
“How did you lose your magic?” asks Dranko.
Moirel takes a deep breath, and spends half a minute gathering her muddled thoughts. Morningstar senses that she is rapidly regaining focus.
“You know about Volpos,” Moirel begins. “You know that is where Naloric was, and where Naradawk now is. It can’t be reached. It is a Prison Prime. But I wanted him. He killed my father, and I swore to kill his son. And I thought I could do it. Through the Astral Plane. It’s coterminous in a way that other planes aren't. Before the… before, I had temporal powers. I tried to bore a hole through time and space, using the Astral Plane as a conduit. But… I was out of my league. I knew there was risk, but now how much risk. There was a great deal of energy released when I finished my ritual. I…”
She pauses, and Morningstar senses a great sadness well up in her.
“I killed almost everyone here. The Watcher’s Kiss kept me alive, shielded me, kept me safe.”
Morningstar feels Moirel’s mind become instantly frantic.
“Where is it, by the way?” asks Moirel in a sudden panic. “I need it. I need it!”
“Why?” asks Aravis calmly.
“Because I… because it… I…" Her mind calms. “I don’t know why. It is very powerful. Very. It gave me authority, protection… no, I don’t need it, do I? What would be the point? I don’t want to kill anyone else. Just him. And I can’t do that now. There’s no way to get to Volpos, it was a fool’s errand… but it was my last hope. After I failed, after Inivane failed me…”
Ernie pats her hand. “You are an intelligent and focused woman. Take some time, rest.”
She becomes confused again. “You’re not going to kill me?”
“No,” says Ernie, smiling.
“You should,” says Moirel, closing her eyes. “If you knew the things I’ve done… I remember doing them, and remember wanting to do them.”
“Are you sure it was you who wanted to do those things?” asks Aravis.
“Oh, yes. Some of them. Even now, if you gave me the choice, I would rewrite history, so that my father’s name would not be disgraced and he not killed. I would do anything for him. Naloric sent me through the plinths because he didn’t trust my father. He felt my father was trying to trick him, which was not the case. My father, Condor, he valued his work above all else. If I had a way to avenge him, I would, in a heartbeat.”
Aravis nods in sympathy. “I can understand your desire to bring your father back at any cost. If I were given that option, I don’t know what I would do for my own father. But you should consider: Naradawk is trapped in his prison, and that may very well be worse for him than death.”
“He has tried to get out before,” says Moirel. “He may yet succeed.”
Dranko snorts. “And so you thought making a tunnel between here and Volpos was a good idea?”
Moirel looks peeved. “It would not have been permanent. I would have gone through, and the tunnel would have closed behind me. I would have found him, and killed him. That’s why I needed the Watcher’s Kiss. To kill Naradawk. And I would have, and he may have killed me, but that wouldn’t have mattered.”
Moirel says nothing after that, and so there is silence around her cot. According to Morningstar she is losing focus again, and dreaming of plunging the Watcher’s Kiss into Naradawk’s heart.
“Say!” says Dranko, wanting to keep the conversation going. “Do you remember how to banish King Farazil from this plane?”
As he hoped, this snaps Moirel back to the here and now. “Ah, yes. Farazil. But I have released him from service. He fulfilled the technical terms of a contract I had made with him… to kill you, if I recall correctly. In light of your continued existence, I shouldn’t have been so ready to declare the contract upheld. Oh, yes, he can be killed. Banish him to the Plane of Shadow, follow him, and kill him there.”
“And how do you banish him?” Dranko presses.
“How do any banish any extra-planar creature? And if he is resistant to such measures, you may have to work at it. He’s a crafty thing, isn’t he. Slippery. He…” She pauses, trying to remember. “He wanted something. I don’t remember what it was. Beyond merely his freedom from my service, I mean.”
“If you could remember, that would be great.”
When Moirel seems to have nothing more to say on that subject, Aravis asks, “Were your temporal powers magic you already possessed, or were they related to the Eye?”
“They were my own!” says Moirel, though Morningstar senses some lingering uncertainty. “I am… was… the second greatest Earth Mage of my day. Only my father was more powerful.”
Morningstar confirms that the name of Cranchus is nowhere in her thoughts.
Moirel continues. “The Eyes were my father’s greatest creation, and the controlling Eye – the Black – the most powerful of all of them. I remember holding it, while the others circled around my head. Father assured me it was safe, that everything would be fine. He had worked out the details. I trusted him, but… there was something odd about the Black one. Condor was forced to use some of that… that stuff that Naloric had – just a little – to make it function properly. It was the year 200 when I left. Condor said I should arrive sometime between 500 and 100 years in the future. That I should verify that fact, and then use a second the ritual to return to my own time.
“And so I went. To travel through time, was a thing of such exquisite beauty and power. I was so proud of my father. Naloric was a fool; he didn’t understand the true extent of my father’s knowledge. He knew more – thought deeper – than Naloric could ever know. For all his power, the Emperor was a monster. He was also my Lord, and I served him without question, but he was a monster, and we both knew it.”
The Company is transfixed by Moirel’s narrative, hardly daring to breathe as they listen.
“So, I traveled,” says Moirel. “It worked! I came forward in time some 800-odd years. And when I arrived, the controlling Eye… took me over. I was... gone for a while, I don’t know where. When I came to, the other Eyes had abandoned me. Scattered themselves. And the Obsidian Eye was there, with me. It became me. It was greater than I was. But it left me my personality. It didn't dominate me in a conventional sense, but in most ways this was worse.
“I set out to discover what had happened. I learned that a hundred years earlier, Naloric had been banished following a long war. So I did what made the most sense – I found this place, where his capital used to be. Most of the city was wrecked, ruined in the war, but this castle was still here, hidden by powerful illusions. The Sharshun, those that had not fled with Naloric, still held it. But it would not have stayed hidden for long from the Spire, not with Naloric gone.
“So, I hid it better. I shifted it, the Eye shifted it… no, I shifted it.. The knowledge was mine. I was still myself, a little, and I was the greatest living mage. The leader of the Sharshun… I destroyed him, took his place, and saw to it that we devoted all of our energies to finding the seven other Eyes, so I could send someone back in time. But I couldn't leave. The Obsidian Eye wouldn't let me leave. It was needed here to keep the place safe. I was a spider trapped in my own web, but I had many faithful servants. The Sharshun obeyed me without question. They knew better than to question anything I said or did. And so I sent them out to find the Eyes. You found some, they found some…”
Ernie interrupts, whispering. “What did you do to Sagiro?”
Moirel laughs. “The Eye dominated him, of course. The Eye could dominate anyone completely, lastingly, utterly. It left their personality alone, and in some ways they were still themselves. But they obeyed… us… me… unquestionably. Until the day they died, and possibly beyond.”
“Is Sagiro dead?” asks Morningstar.
“I don’t know.”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
Moirel thinks. “I… sent him to find one of the missing Eyes, and I never heard from him again. One of my many failures.”
Morningstar shakes her head. “Why would the Eye not want you to return to Naloric? Why did it not let you return to your own time?”
“I think,” says Moirel slowly, “that, ultimately, it was under the control of my father. Had it gone back, it would have been under my father’s control again. It desired to be in control, rather than to be controlled. Like all of the Eyes, it had a mind of its own.”
“And,” says Aravis, “If it was made with the black essence, it had a larger goal in mind.”
“ Naloric,” spits Moirel. “There was something he wanted. It was all he thought about, day and night, night and day. He dug for it, convinced it was deep beneath the earth. He controlled everything, and what did he do with all the slave labor he could wish for, drawn from every corner of the kingdom? He dug.”
Dranko thinks to the others: Naloric dug, but what he didn’t know is that the underworld had been sealed off. That was why our red-armored friends have gone beneath the barrier. To find what Naloric was after.
Morningstar agrees. “It’s all to free the Adversary,” she says to Moirel.
Moirel looks confused. “The Adversary? You mean, the Adversary from story, from whom the Travelers came here fleeing? Perhaps Naloric wanted to kill that being. What he was looking for was called the Fist of the Godslayer. I remember that now… it’s what he was digging for.”
“What did it do?” Dranko asks.
“Slay Gods, presumably. Honestly I didn’t give it much thought. I always considered it a fool’s errand.”
“Maybe it’s a giant hammer,” thinks Grey Wolf. “That would be cool.”
But internally, the Company thinks it far more likely that Naloric, infused with goo, was looking to free the Adversary, not kill him.
“He was digging in many places,” says Moirel. “Like I said, a fool’s errand. He never seemed to find what he was looking for, and eventually he had to curtail his efforts in order to prosecute the war with the Spire.”
“I guess you don’t know, then,” says Aravis. “But that black substance, that he used to craft the Black Eye? That’s the blood of the Adversary.”
“How… how did it get here?”
“Part of Him came to Abernia,” says Aravis, “and crashed to the ground.”
“So He’s here?”
“A portion is.”
“What portion,” presses Moirel.
“His essence,” says Ernie. “He was trying to reach through the door of his prison, and it closed. Some of his spiritual fingers, as it were, were sliced off.”
“And those… fingers… escaped and came here?”
“He’s been giving us the Spiritual Finger ever since,” Ernie grumbles.
Morningstar gives Moirel a grim smile. “The Black Eye, infused with Adversary blood, had control of you all of these years. You have been doing its bidding all of this time.”
Moirel again grows quiet, but Morningstar knows she’s thinking furiously, trying to integrate this new information with her own fragmented memories. Her mind jumps to Sagiro, and to the Cauldron of Lies.
“I have… I have a cauldron,” Moirel says out loud.
“We know,” says Ernie.
Moirel laughs. “Of course you know. You are Alander’s chosen. The Eye knew about you. It feared you. That was one of the reasons it stayed here and wouldn’t leave.”
“What did the Cauldron tell you?” Dranko asks.
“That’s the confusing part. It said ‘Sagiro, in the end, will fail you.’ And he did fail me. So how is that a lie?”
“Couldn’t you use the Cauldron again?” Dranko suggests.
“A person may only stir the Cauldron once.”
She closes her eyes again, thinking hard, and then asks, “If the stories of the Adversary are true, He would destroy the world! Who would let that happen?”
Aravis sighs. “There are always people who are convinced that they will be spared.”
“Then they are idiots!”
“Rememeber,” says Kibi, “They’re controlled by Black Goo just like you were. They can’t help but try to bring the Adversary back.” Then he says, “You said your life was a failure, and your only goal to avenge your father, but do you really think that’s what you father would want?”
“Yes!” Moirel exclaims.
“Wouldn’t he rather see you happy, than to…”
“He was a man of great pride, as well as great intellect,” says Moirel. “He would understand that I wouldn’t be happy until he was avenged.”
“While you may have failed to kill Naradawk,” says Aravis, “by preserving the Watcher’s Kiss, and keeping it away from those who wanted to destroy it, you have allowed it to come to us. And that may be what lets us destroy the Adversary, and by doing so destroy the source of Naradawk’s power.”
Moirel thinks, and then smiles. “And if that comes to pass, Sagiro will not have failed me, after all.”
…to be continued…
