Chapter 84: Tainted Memories

Subject: Inis Location: Arlcada Territories - Western Trail The wide expanse of Inis's memories stretched before her, as she leaned back in the cramped cabin of the mechanized wagon. The memories were fading fast into the background of her awareness. Her hands raced across the page, transcribing each flash of marked memory into physical form. Inis no longer knew how much time had passed since she began, but she continued to absorb the information as she wrote it down. Back in the Guild archives, she didn't have the leisure of consciously interpreting what she was looking at. Maintaining the spell had taken all of her concentration. The mage worked, seated in a turbulent void of disparate thoughts, emotions, degraded sensory information, and everything seemingly linked to the memories she sought. In that void, she could "see" bizarre patterns. Thoughts, unlike her own, nestled there among visual snapshots of the pages she was transcribing. They weren't doing anything, but they were uncomfortable nonetheless. Pay attention, she felt something urge her. These words are intriguing. What was that? What was she supposed to pay attention to? Inis read more closely. "--belief that the festerfonts around Arlcada are changing, responding to our activities. We do not know if we can continue using them as we have been," the excerpt read. "Using" the festerfonts? What did that mean? The subtle familiarity of the shifting patterns around her faded from her awareness. The spectral points of light were all that remained. She didn't remember them being there before, in that this was perhaps evidence of a change overtaking her cognition. A sign of her potential's awakening, a sign that she'd be able to reach new heights? Likely. A sign that she had been marked by the injection that had gifted her with this insight. "It is our consensus that we must kill the source of our newfound wealth. If we ignore this danger, a mature festerfont of this nature will be our undoing." They were letting it live? Inis couldn't believe it. If a festerfont could be destroyed, it must be destroyed. That was supposed to be their creed, and it was the common sense of all those with knowledge of The Blight. She continued writing, furiously scanning many pages for more concerning language. The lull in concentration brought the familiar patterns back, this time more virile than before. I need to concentrate, she found "herself" urging. Though, it didn't feel very much like herself at all... Again, she lost notice of the jagged patterns, blooming with life. It was really the only way she could describe it, but it didn't matter. It was effectively gone. "We must not let the public know. The Blight has been accumulating at an unprecedented rate. Continue efforts to persuade the Shrouded Theocracy's lax government to take action, but keep civilians from worrying." Inis agreed that most people couldn't handle news like that, more likely to damage efforts in their panic than aid the Guild, but was leaving them to scar in the blinding sun really the right thing to do? The wealth of information at Inis's fingertips was tantalizing, but it was a dessert she was obligated to save until after her work was over, or risk losing fragments of the memories to time's decay. Already, she could see the effects slipping into her pages. "--training programs to support suppression efforts are-- . Harvest activities continue strong, though-- --among harvesters continues to be a concern." They were all words that could easily be deduced, for now, but who was to say when the gaps were too wide or too complex to fill? Inis pressed on, even though her eyes ached and the muscles in her hand burned for rest. "They rejected our appeals again. We should seek an alternate path." Many of the pages were out of order, but she had read most of them in order the Guild had stored them in, with earliest records coming first. She was transcribing them beginning with the first words she read. The whole ordeal felt like racing against forgetfulness. If only she had been capable of casting a stronger spell. Already, she was treading ground few could reach, maybe only 30% of mages, which was an already small segment of the general population. She knew she should be happy with that, but... "You hunger for more," something inside finished her thought. She needed sleep. That could come later. Inis feel her mind... slipping, in its fatigue. She'd gone too long without a potion. Uncapping the nearest one, she brought it to her lips. Just in time. This altered awareness was dangerous. It made it easy to miss the warning signs of vira deprivation. It took more than a moment to sink back into the flow of the spell, but she managed. "Listed in order of worth, blightsource stockpiles in warehouse 3 have increased by the stated numbers: Rigorvat: 33 units Mirivat: 6 units Forslone: 90 units Addendum: Orders are to continue buying up curos wherever able. We must monitor the appearance of this marker resource. Merchant contractors remain clueless as to our interest in the substance, but they understand the worth of a large glittering thing to a motivated buyer. We remain the only motivated buyers on the market. Keep it that way." Curos? What was that? Inis didn't know each and every blightsource found in the bowels of festerfonts, but she wished she had a more generalized knowledge. She'd have to research it when she arrived in Maliscade. When Inis was finally done, she took one final potion as a preventative measure. There were now only three left of that variant. The others were for different uses. They were less immediately useful to her. For now, the transcribed documents were arranged before her by source, held firm with temporary trip bindings. It was the best she could do in a short time, but she would have to find a more permanent solution eventually. "I'm finished, Mertalo," she announced. "But I have some reading to do. What's our status?" How many seeds do I have left? she found herself thinking. That answer was a resounding "not enough". "Finally finished? I'll be you did well in school with focus like that. We're three days out, but there are many long days and nights ahead of us. We are out here to find a village to stop at. There, we'll wait for a convoy to pass through and make the rest of the journey safer" The dull shock hit her. "Three days?! How?" Among the other documents, Inis had copied over information about new taxonomic classifications of Blightbeasts. Beasts she didn't recognize. However, she was frustrated because she couldn't match the skilled artists depictions. In the end, many sketchings had ended up little more than vague descriptions of key traits, pointing to barren polygons on the page. Inis couldn't shake the belief that there was something strange going on with the memory traces she had pulling up. They felt different then what she first saw. She couldn't remember what the words were supposed to sound like in her head, since this was her memory of what it looked like that she was accessing. She couldn't remember the words. Instead, these snapshots fixed in her mind were all that were left, and even they were fading fast. When it came down to it, maybe Inis didn't really know how these memory spells really worked. Or, it could also be that the author of the spellbook didn't have an adequate grasp. The concepts were not easy to grasp. She was overthinking it, but the unsettling belief remained. Inis attributed this uneasiness to some unknown difference when she was remembering text as opposed to the images. Maybe that was it. The spells augmented recall, but it felt different from normal memory. Maybe? Or, maybe only some of the marked memories were "off"? "The words on the pages," something whispered, drawing her attention away from these thoughts. "I can't explain it. Your body was moving on it's own. Eating and drinking in your sleep, it seemed. Is that some kind of spell?" "Not that I know of. Are you sure I was asleep?" "Well, you were breathing like you were, slumped over, eyes closed. And you didn't respond when I asked you what you were doing. Do you know what it's like to ride with a thrall?" "Stop. We're in danger," came another whisper. Inis's virasenses activated on their own, flashing the surrounding environment with it's telltale hues. Was this also fatigue? This man was a puzzle to her, but he was probably the closest person to her at this point. Was that sad? Probably, but who was around to judge her? "Why did you stay in Arlcada so long?" Inis asked. She activated her virasenses, willfully this time, and stared keenly, watching for changes in his physiology. Unlike some practiced inquisitors, she couldn't tell when someone was lying. It did, however, help increase her confidence in trusting a person's words. "To be honest, I'm not hurting for coin. I've not much left to live for. I was just... thinking..." He seemed to be telling the truth. "You've not much left to live for? Is that why you took this dangerous journey?" Did that mean he wanted to die? Was this why he'd allowed himself to age like this? Then again, it was expensive to stave off the effects of time, as the vira required to sustain one's youth increased exponentially with age. Longevity was out of the hands of those without a stable income or the means to acquire vira. Just how old was he really? "You say it like I'm expecting to die. I'm travelling with a strong seeker, apparently. And we'll meet up with a caravan at the first village with find. Our rush was only because of your circumstances, whatever they were." He hadn't asked. She respected him for that. "You risked your life for my sake?" Inis asked, disguising her disbelief as curiosity. "I was payed well." "But, according to you, you don't need the coin." He turned and crinkled his face in a frown. "I was worried about you, girl." Why? "Don't be. I'm not your responsibility." "I'm sorry." "No... it's not-- Trust is difficult. It isn't something smart people lean on." "Careful", a voice inside reminded her. "Danger," it whispered in her head. Again, her virasenses flashed, but the whisper was too "quiet" to attract notice. "Don't I know it. I think it might be partly that attitude of yours that feels so familiar. I've met some people like you in the past. Not that I really know you very well." "What happened to those people? Do you know?" The driver's expression hardened, and Inis knew the answer before it even left his lips. "Oh, they're most all dead. Reminiscing makes me feel a touch of guilt." You die if you aren't strong. "The ones that aren't?" "I only know where one is. Would you believe it if I said he was a Paragon?" No, I wouldn't be quick to believe that at all. "Which one?" "The worst one," he answered grimly. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone I told you that." Because he's hiding from this big bad Paragon? Or because he doesn't want his tall tale exposed? "I can't say I believe you, but it's an interesting claim. I'm not compelled to share it with anyone." "'Interesting'. I reckon so." "Then I'll give you one in return. If you promise to keep it to yourself."