Malum In Se [Finn]

[Erratum]

Malum in se

Glade XX, 123

When Karmordi awoke, he began immediately to test the limits of the directives for rest and recuperation laid upon him. Whatever the precise nature of the curse which the Great Witch had levied against him during her trial, its effects on his spirit were fleeting- within a day he was defying his order for bedrest to walk about the ward. By the end of the week, the doctor overseeing the infirmary had chosen to eject him, just to keep him from annoying the other patients.

("He's strong as a king lizard anyway." she'd added, completing his chart, "Never seen anything like it, where a patient comes in so... softened up, I suppose, then just recovers over a few days.")

Shortly afterwards, he met with Finn. The drillmaster of the Dratheran plateau was made of sterner stuff than the doctor, and absolutely refused to permit the young man to return to sparring until Innogen's three week time period had passed. As a result, Karmordi was forced to join the senators and curious citizens of the city in the spectator's booths, watching his fellows compete with obvious avarice in his eyes.

It was there, once again at the side of the field, that Karmordi first discussed the payment the Great and Ancient Witch had demanded.

"The tongue of a liar beast..."

It had been slight work to determine that the Liar Beasts were some sort of legendary monster of the southwestern jungles, but most sources spoke of them in mythical or quasi-religious terms, rather than as game. The general consensus was that they were some kind of unholy thing left over from the days when Malgar himself strode the land, pouring the Wine of Suffering over the earth, some hideous test he'd laid for his new race of Orkhan. Some few people claimed that they were the result of an evil god-king who had opposed Raxen's Conquest, and created them as living weapons to bedevil the faithful. Some few suggested that they were just particularly weird animals. Many agreed that they weren't real, per se.

"Those people have spent too long in the city." Karmordi observed, "The villages know the truth of it. The liar-beasts are rare, thankfully, but they're real enough that in my own home, nobody was ever to pass more than twenty miles from the village alone. I was told that Uncle Tehool's great-uncle met a liar-beast in the woods once, and had to seek healing of the mind from the Greens, so we knew at least one was in the area."

"They hunt Orkhan, though I've heard they'll hunt dragons or elves, too, but only if you're alone. They never approach if there are two or more people. According to the legends, they stalk you from the darkness, and they speak to you in your own voice until you go mad." Karmordi shrugged, "Whatever that means. There is a taxidermy model of one in the Library, I saw it once- it was twice as tall as me, with thick furry skin and two mouths."

The berserker shook his head, looking unconvinced. "Not a trivial monster, by any means, but far, far smaller than the lizard kings, let alone a Primal. I could probably take two or three, if I had to. Perhaps I could just plug my ears with beeswax to protect myself from their magic words?"

[Finn]

Finn pushed himself hard; perhaps that was part of why he had fallen in with Karmordi. After making regular visits to check on his progress, he was delighted to know the man had been discharged, even if his nervous pacing had been the cause of it. Despite how he pushed himself, he elected to sit the day out and observe with him. There was plenty to be learned from observation, and the Sentinel in his retinue who handled healing was glad he was giving himself more time for his hurts to heal.

Finn went hard against Karmordi and the other fighters, and the Sentinel hadn't expected to be working almost every day on someone battered and bruised, lacerated and grinning. No doubt they wondered whether he was going a bit Ecithian after the apparent ease with which he had gone Solunarian.

He listened to Karmordi speak with a great deal of attention, but his eyes and the rest of his mind was focused on the martial arts playing out before them. Applauding the end of a particularly didactic encounter, he glanced sidelong at the ork.

"I have come to believe that most bogeymen are born of at least a seed of truth," he said. "No doubt there is more to know about the liar beasts than even the average village shaman might know, but it would behoove you to prepare yourself."

To wit, "I wonder whether its fabled voice is a voice in fact or whether it slips into the mind and tricks one into doubting oneself. We can be our own worst critics, and we can talk ourselves out of things we know we want, things we need to do. I would guess that some mental fortification would help more than beeswax, although if beeswax might help, use it. Throw everything against the wall and see what sticks, at least when it comes to unknown threats."

Finn paused. "Have you spoken to anyone who might have hunted one, in fact? Or... I'm still uncertain how intertwined the green dragons are with the people. Are there dragons available for you to ask? If they know how to heal the hurts to the mind, they might be able to prepare you for them."

[Erratum]

"The Green Dragonflight is migratory, and they return to this part of the continent only to roost and brood, whereon they are not likely to appreciate my coming to ask them questions." Karmordi laughed, and Finn got the impression that this was, if anything, a serious understatement. "But... the Commonwealth has an accord with the Librarians. If anyone can tell me anything about the Liar-Beasts, it would be the Reds."

The berserker looked uncharacteristically thoughtful at that, nodding to himself. "Then... I will consult the Library, and seek there any books on the creatures. They may even be able to tell me who has slain one in recent times, if anyone has. I'll let you know if I find anything."

Karmordi gave Finn an almost affectionate pat on the hand, then rose, moving across the plateau with purpose.

~o~

A week later, Finn met Karmordi again on the field. This time, the young Ork wore a bemused look; not an expression which was native to the impulsive young man's face. He bore a book with him, entitled Terrores Silvestres in a faded gold print, into which he'd tucked a letter, like a bookmark. As Finn approached, he offered both, a queer glint in his eye.

"The Librarians were scant help, truthfully. They say that battle against the Liar-beasts is very rare, as the creatures are exceedingly adept at evading groups of hunters, such that it is useless to pursue them in packs, but inordinately deadly to the lone traveler. Apparently, the last recorded skirmish with one was... well, go on, look at this letter. I think you'll find it an amusing twist."

The scrap of parchment inside the book was of relatively modern design, though it had dried and worn a bit with age. It read simply:

Searing 3, 122

Dear Carina,

Per my promise to regularly write, I am composing this missive. However, I am afraid that I must invoke a peculiar loophole; I do not wish to speak of what I saw in the jungle today, and I am under no obligation to write further. It is unlikely that I will wish to speak of it in the future. It is better that we do not take some things back with us.

Love,

Imogen Ward

"Not helpful, I know, but apparently this is all she ever wrote about her encounter with the liar-beast." Karmordi raised an eyebrow, his smile speculative, "Musta been pretty terrifying, even the Great and Ancient Witch don't wanna talk about it, eh? Maybe that's why she wants one dead, she just hates them so much?"

That didn't sound much like the practice of the composed, conniving witch whom Finn had met, but ultimately he'd spent only a few scant hours with her. Who could say?

"Anyway, there is apparently a relevant entry in this book, but I can't read it. The junior Librarian thought maybe you could, though."

Karmordi carefully opened the big book- but despite its apparent age, it did not creak, or shudder, or do anything else which Finn had observed in decrepit tomes of this sort. Apparently the Librarians did an excellent job preserving texts. The page to which he turned was unillustrated, but also thankfully short, hand-written in a large, looping script:

Hae bestiae solum in tenebris habitant, solas venantur. Circumdati subire oportet quod maxime timent, sed lingua sua exponunt. Alii interimunt, alii unguibus tantum distrahuntur. Sed omnes moriuntur. Semper scito quod mentitur, quod eius verba semper mendacia sunt, maxime cum vereris veritatem esse. Ergo haec creatura est secundum se mala.

[Finn]

"Don't sell yourself short," he said, laughing. "If I can marry a half-dragon, I'm sure a dragon would want to rut with you."

But Karmordi looked thoughtful rather than amused, and they parted only to regroup once more a week later. This time, Karmordi looked bemused. He heard it in his symphony, as well—at least what was playing 'loudly' into the general cacophony of life. It seemed the Great and Ancient Witch had set him on a path of self-awareness, which ought to make him a better leader if not a better berserker.

"A Vastian book? Huh." Dutifully opening the letter, he could sense trauma emanating from it. Rare were the times he could hear traces of a symphony on an inanimate object, as those echoes tended to fade relatively quickly even if the emotion or thought that had set them there was intense.

Imogen, he thought. That did make more sense given she hailed from Zaichær; the Orkhan must have made it work for their more robust dental endowments.

"It seems hunting the liar-beast was not a walk in the park even for the Great and Ancient Witch herself," he noted, and then turned his gaze to the Vastian text Karmordi indicated. The Vastian itself was vaguely archaic, and while he wasn't exactly a historical linguist, he figured it was proof that the Reds were indeed diligent stewards of written artifacts.

Translation was an art, and could not exist without an element of adaptation. Even attempting word-for-word translation, one had to make choices. He did the best he could.

"'These beasts live only in the dark,'" Finn declaimed, "'they hunt alone. Surrounded, one must undergo what one fears most, but they expose it with their tongues. Some kill, others are merely torn apart by their claws. But all die. Always know that he lies, that his words are always lies, especially when you fear that they are the truth. Therefore, this creature is evil in itself.'"

He paused, then, "It might be 'especially when you fear the truth.' I apologize; it isn't my native language."

[Erratum]

Karmordi clapped his hands once in appreciation as Finn translated the text, nodding along as he went.

"I knew you would be able to read it- and it sounds as though you guessed well at its power. Undergo what one fears most..." Karmordi's smile faded at that, his brows knitting together. But it wasn't a look of fear, not exactly. More of... perplexity, perhaps?

"To face one's greatest fear- that is sacred to Raxen. Those who would become Arbiters are given just such a trial by the god, and the Arbiters themselves reveal the darkness within to the rest of us, that we may always strive to overcome it. I find it hard to believe that such a holy rite is available to a monster so despised. Especially one called liar-beast, in defiance of the Arbiter of Truth."

Perhaps, he mused, the devil was in the details. Raxen's trials were not lies; the god's power revealed the darkest reaches of an Ork's heart and called it forth to be the crucible, fear made real by the decree of Truth Himself. The author here seemed quite insistent that the beast was, in fact, lying. Could that be the crucial distinction?

In any event, a monster was a monster, not a god. Doubtless it had no power to manifest his fears, as an Arbiter might. So, a beast which lied, confronting the victim with the most terrible fears in their heart, and which led regularly to the death of the victim. It was tempting for the brash young warrior to simply brush the whole thing off as insufficient to challenge his own courage and spirit, but Innogen's letter gave him pause. Clearly it was insufficient to simply be confident in oneself.

"I think, perhaps, I begin to see the danger. The monster lies, but it tells you the lies you fear most. And it must be very good at this, for it has killed or otherwise perturbed many great warriors in this way; so I am not so proud as to think I need no protection."

"Can you, friend Finn, think of some magic which would protect me from the liar-beast's words, even while I am alone?"

[Finn]

Finn was mostly silent while Karmordi mused, nodding or making quiet, thoughtful noises at various points. He was supporting his friend, not trying to tell him what to do, especially in what could be a self-defining, mortally perilous journey. But he did opine when his opinion was requested.

"To your first point, I would venture to say that Raxen makes one face their fears in order to make them less vulnerable to those fears. Raxen likely wants one to succeed. The monster uses one's fears as a weapon against them, a vulnerability to exploit in order to consume them. It wants one to fail."

After a pause, he continued, "To your second point, it does rather sound like someone using something akin to the Rune of Mesmer to ferret out fears, twist them, and neutralize prey so they don't have to fight face to face.

"If it is akin enough to Mesmer, I could ward you against mesmeric intrusion. If it's not," he paused, face twisting a bit with discomfort, "well, either make yourself invulnerable to your fears with Raxen's aid or..." He sighed. "I am a skilled Mesmer. I could do what a liar-beast does: dig into your psyche, find your fears, and attack you with them. Except, I would not be waiting with claws and teeth bared for when you crumble. I would be trying to inure you against such attacks against your mind."

The distaste was clear on his face, but if he hated it, he was still offering. Better distasteful use of his magic with someone's affirmative consent than for Karmordi to die.

It had been one thing when Finn first started; he could better gauge an audience, pull focus so people would give him his shot with his music. Now he had mastered it and lived in a realm where they called it Command and used it ubiquitously. Now he was the odd duck for rarely using Mesmer at all while playing music, wanting his art to speak for itself.

He wouldn't Command Karmordi, but he would practice all the subtlety he had learned in order to help prepare him for such tests with beasts that didn't have his best interests to heart.

[Erratum]

The berserker pondered Finn's words, taking them much more seriously than Finn had previously seen him take anything but fighting. The Orkhan man rose and walked over to look over the practice field- no, Finn realized, not at the practice field, but at the Temple of Raxen beyond it, just past the square where Finn had played sorrowful songs for Deravaecia. He breathed deeply, closing his eyes, looking for all the world as though he expected some booming divine voice to emerge from the temple and set him straight.

But there was only the wind, and the sounds of wooden swords clattering against each other on the practice field.

"I could not ask you do to that for me." Karmordi said at last, his voice reluctant, "Even with your agreement, that is the kind of magic which tarnishes the soul of both participants. I will do what I must to find my destiny, but I will not blaspheme against the gods or ask you to play the role of the liar-beast yourself."

Karmordi looked away from Raxen's temple, but before he could turn back to Finn, his gaze caught on something else in the distance. He blinked, then squinted.

Then, quite suddenly, he grinned.

"But perhaps there is another way. Look, there-"

He pointed past Finn. If the man followed his finger, he would see it leading towards the Temple of Syren, second of the Triumvirate whom he had met. Or, no; Karmordi was pointing past the temple, to the great open-air amphitheater lying beyond it. Just as sacred to the Goddess and her Bards, in many ways.

"I see it now. I have followed Galetira's Way by hearing the Great Witch's directions and the ancient warnings about the beasts. I will face Raxen's trial in combat. But to overcome this, I must have Syren's protection." He beamed, as though this was a completely obvious ploy, looking at Finn for some moments... then realized the foreigner might not, in fact, catch his drift.

"By her power, the goddess' music can be hard by every citizen of the Commonwealth, no matter how far. No mortal Bard can achieve that, of course, but perhaps with their help I could hear your distant song when it seeks to break me? Do you think you could keep my mind clear and my purpose steady, if I could hear you?"

[Finn]

Finn held silent space while Karmordi meditated or prayed, and then felt a pang of guilt even as he felt relieved his friend did not want to make him make such use of his Rune. The bard was no saint, but he wasn't sadistic.

"Well..."

But he followed Karmordi's indication and considered. There was a great deal to unpack there; he had spoken with the priest Ramses several times about how going from a culture that focused on two co-equal deities to a culture with three would require such subtle alterations in perspective... He could not think in terms of binary, but see how many times and how many ways everything came in patterns of three. It was ingrained in how the Orkhan thought and saw the world.

"That is... certainly possible," he allowed. As much as he had learned about magic from the Sentinels, most of it had to do with how magic worked with mortals. He had wielded Command as a weapon against shadowspawn, of course, and twisted things that lived in the Zonam Mysterium with its corrupting voidrillium veins. Those situations held so many unknowns and variables, though, that he was less confident than he would be if he was told he needed to swan into a party and seduce the minds of an entire room of people.

Of course, his conscientious objections to that counted for naught; there were so many Mesmers of equal or greater power to him in Solunarium, he was not irreplaceable as a molder of minds.

"I did sing to you during your first test with Innogen. I don't... know if you were fully conscious of it. I didn't force you to keep going, but I let you know that you were not alone. Perhaps if Galetira will tell us the hour in which I need to be at Syren's side to reach out and shield your mind, I can do that for you from Drathera.

"I would go with you, but I think my superiors back home would be angry if their envoy endangered his diplomatic mission even to aid a friend on such an important quest. And then it couldn't be just the two of us as I have people sworn to keep me safe while I am here.

"I think perhaps the requests for divine aid must come from you, however. I am on decent terms with your Gods, but they are not my Gods. Your prayers are the ones they will answer."

[Erratum]

Karmordi and Finn took their leave of the field again, and in time it transpired that Syren had agreed to Karmordi's request.

There was more to it than that, of course. A hunt like this required preparation, maps, plotting of routes and plotting of contingencies. Orkhan seldom traveled the great Central jungle to the south of Drathera alone; not so much because of the Liar-Beasts, which were blessedly rare monsters, but because the jungle contained a thousand other predators and diseases to which even a great warrior could easily fall prey. Prior to his departure, Karmordi spoke to trackers and hunters, doctors and alchemists and cartographers alike. His determination on the matter was admirable, whatever else might be said about his scheme.

The most curious bit of logistics, though, involved Finn directly. Karmordi's hunt, such as it was, could last for weeks--if he was lucky--and the window for Finn's assistance to preserve him was small. It was obviously unreasonable to suggest that Finn play him inspiring music at all hours of the night and day for the next month. Even if Finn could physically and mentally manage such a legendary feat, it would fatally conflict with his duties as Legate.

Luckily, Karmordi found a solution in the most mysterious of Ecith's gods.

("Actually, she found me." the young berserker told Finn, looking faintly puzzled, "I suppose Syren's temple must have reached out. Her name is Noko, a junior acolyte of the Temple of Galetira, and she says that she will come and tell you when you need to travel to the temple and play.")

Karmordi didn't seem to know much more than that. Nobody did. The subject of Galetira's faithful wasn't taboo in Drathera or anything, but nobody seemed to have very much to say about them. It was plainly obvious that the Seers took great pains to ensure that people simply weren't sure what their true capabilities were; a strange change from the subject of the Bards or Arbiters, who were favorite choices for stories, tales and myth.

Once his preparations were complete, however, Karmordi departed the city without delay. And so, Finn heard nothing more of him for some time.

↠━━━━ღ◆ღ━━━━↞

Then, one evening as Finn prepared for bed, the Sentinels informed him that two unknown Orks had announced themselves outside of the embassy with an urgent message for him:

The berserker's hour has come upon him, though he knows it not. If he fail or if he win shall be decided ere the sun lights the eastern sky.

No man born can vanquish his own shadow; only a muse of fire can break the chains we place upon ourselves.

[Finn]

As soon as he received the message, Finn quickly dressed and prepared to go.

Lute in hand, he came before the Orkhan. He nodded to them and gestured as a portal appeared beside him. As it resolved, it showed the exterior of Syren's temple. He figured it would be impolite if not blasphemous to open a portal directly into her earthly home.

He didn't know if they were meant to accompany him or merely provide the warning.

In either case, he went through, followed by a cursing Arkænyn, pulling a pauldron on over his underclothes. Finn didn't think he would need the knight's sort of protection tonight, but he didn't mind his platinum shadow.

Outside the temple, the breezes were balmy if the heat of the night hadn't dissipated. Inside, the air was more comfortable still. He went whither he was led, and then began to quickly tune his instrument while he awaited guidance how all of this would work.

In the meantime, he began to play. And then, he began to sing. This antechamber had excellent acoustics, and he didn't know whether Syren would deign to see him or merely act as a divine conduit to answer Karmordi's prayer from afar.

"Mother cannot guide you;
Now you're on your own.
Only me beside you,
Still, you're not alone.
No one is alone, truly.
No one is alone."

It started out tremulous enough, and if Arkænyn's lip curled at the first line, well, he had his reasons to sneer at a mother's guidance.

But even though neither the song nor the enchantment were aimed at him, he quieted. Finn rarely wove Command into his songs, and it was rare he treated it as Command rather than Mesmer. The music began to throb with connection, and Finn poured himself into the music in more ways than one.

"Sometimes people leave you
Halfway through the wood.
Others may deceive you;
You decide whats good.
You decide alone,
But no one is alone."

"I wish..." Arkænyn murmured.

Finn replied, "I know."