Fifteen Years of Searching

The constant rains of the Marsh drizzled their way over Redmun's coat, small metallic sounds ringing out as a few hit his breastplate as they made their way from the stables. The humid air felt like trudging through muck, as he and Jessamine approached the village's tavern. Both their cloaks had been soaked through after the long, miserable ride, but while he was sick of the leeching cold, she usually enjoyed the wastefulness of such downpours, after living most of her life in the White Desert.

The townsfolk, more used to the rain and the fog than to outsiders, shot glances and glares as they trudged steadily on their way. Hardy, waterproof leather hats and coats were everywhere, just long enough to kiss the soggy earth with each step. Countless children ran about in packs, jumping in mud, splashing one another. They all stepped quicker, or darted into one of the many wooden shacks whenever they came close enough to see the insignia etched into Redmun's breastplate, or stitched into the arm of Jessa's overcoat. One man had taken off in a full sprint, heading back down the road where the only two-story building stood, from which harsh voices rose. There were never many hearty welcomes for a Possessor, but here there were none. That suited Redmun just fine.

Though dark and gloomy, like everything near and around the Great Marsh, the village had a certain rustic attraction to it, as if just scraping the grime and grim-faces from the place might make it an enjoyable place to live. That wouldn't happen now, though. These people would soon be homeless. Just past one row of buildings Redmun spied the Marsh itself – the source of the villages problems. Well, one thing at a time.

Jessa pushed open the heavy oak door to the Brew and Pot Inn and Tavern. Smoke drifted lazily through the air in wispy tendrils all about the place, the acrid smell of burnt swamp herbs attacking the nostrils. Redmun gave his cloak one final shake before hanging it in the entrance hall, and stepping into the main room behind Jessa. The Inn, through the smoke, was a cozy enough place, with a long, well stocked bar on one side, a healthy hearth at the other, and a spread of tables, mostly unoccupied, between.

At the bar a bald, thick-bodied man polished the surface with the fierce care only village tavern owners seemed to possess, his long moustache bouncing with the motion. He eyed the strangers for a moment, before returning to his scrubbing. The mugs which sat behind the man gleamed in the dull light, arranged and displayed upside-down, by height. Cheap the place may be, but the man clearly had standards.

“Mornin',” he said, not looking up from his work. “What'll it be?”

Jessa led the way to the bar, and Redmun took the stool beside her, right in front of the barkeeper. “Two of whatever's cheapest, if you would be so kind,” she said, tossing some uncounted coins onto the tabletop. The bartender took a second glance at the dark-skinned beauty upon hearing the her Al'Hagr accent, but he nodded quickly enough.

“Not to dull a sharp point,” the bartender said whilst pouring two tall flagons of some dark brew, his moustache wiggling as he spoke, “but what's a Possessor's business out here?” He gave each of them a dull, stand-offish look as he put the drinks down before him. Jessa made half disappear in the first draught.

“I think you know, mister,” said Redmun, and took but a sip of his own. It was horribly bitter, and too thick for Redmun's tastes, but refreshing nonetheless. It slipped down his throat like ice down a tunnel of fire. “We heard you've had problems with your 'local lord'. Might you point us in his direction?”

The moustached barman considered the two Possessors before him from under his brow. Whatever the man was thinking, that handsome-in-an-ugly-sort-of-way face showed none of it. After a moment, he leaned in, talking low. “If were up to me, strangers, we'd be done with this Evil-pact and live like normal folk.” A finger scratched at his bald scalp. “If were up to me, I wouldn't be in this shite-hole. But ain't up to me, so it's not. Though I'd wager the Mayor's on his way, if that suits you.”

“That suits us fine. “Redmun showed the dour man a smile.

The barkeep grunted, and scuttled back into his own corner, beginning the long task of polishing the already spotless flagons, raising his head occasionally to eye the door.

Redmun swilled the black liquid before him, not feeling much like drinking. Redmun did much worse fighting while drunk, and Jessa did better. When Jessa emptied her own, frowning disappointed at it, he passed it over.

It was only a few more minutes before the heavy door swung slowly open on its hinges, letting in the mad orchestra of the rain, and three men. The fat man was dressed in a bumpkin rendition of a city-suit, clearly thinking himself something better than he was. Two offensively large men flanked him, doing their best to look tough. The Mayor, then. He clapped his hands heartily.

“Honoured guardians, welcome to Potsdoor!” Redmun's eyes flicked just in time for Jessa's jaw to tense, a resigned sigh to escape her lips, and the final drops of alcohol to be funneled into her mouth. They stood in unison as the Mayor, flanked by his two taller, more muscular friends approached, heedless of the waterfall dripping off them into the tavern's floorboards. “Where hail ye?”

The drunk ruffian disappeared, and suddenly Jessa was pushing her wet, flowing hair over her shoulder, swaying her hips in the process. “Al'Hagr,” Jessa said, her sudden smile lighting up the room. Even under the heavy leathers and jacket, and drenched in Marsh-rain, Jessamine's mix of grace and ferocity was a sight to behold, and exotic in those parts. She had the gentle, world-shattering looks of a princess, alongside the skill and temper to make you regret implying such a thing. Her raven-black hair fell below her shoulders in delicate curves. As gorgeous as it was, she only kept it long to dazzle fools, like the lump of pompous lard in front of them.

The Mayor's eyes became widened and dazed at her sudden, beautiful attention. She flourished an Al'Hagr bow – which would look to the local's eyes like she was kneeling to pray- and flourished her hair as she rose, moving it like a silk curtain. Then she laughed for no reason whatsoever. All the men did the same. Redmun smirked, wondering if they'd be so captivated if they saw the deathly pale skin going up to her left shoulder.

The Mayors eyes shifted, with some difficulty, to Redmun. “Khelvorias,” he said, nodding. “Well met, friends.” He shook the Mayor's waiting hand, and didn't bother extending it to his two muscle-headed compatriots. “My name's Redmun Briandry, and this is my lovely travelling partner, Miss Jessamine Forseth.” They both bowed, Redmun with a more standard version. He kept his smile mild, though it wanted to grin at the Mayor's befuddled face. The man was clearly trying his best not to ogle. That was good. As skilled as she was at addling men's brains, she had a thin patience for their staring.

“A pleasure to meet ye, my new, exotic friends.” He blinked, his eyes resting vaguely on Jessa's hidden chest for a second before remembering himself. “Forgive me my manners! My name be Mayor Francis Duntown, at your service. Have you acquired yourselves rooms at the Inn yet, perchance?”

“We were just about to, Mayor Duntown,” Jessa said, sounding as pleasant as could be. “This would be a fine place for any to lay their head, and drink away your troubles.” She fetched her mug from the bar, and raised it joyously to the barkeep. “Compliments.” The barman gave a sullen nod back.

“Indeed it is, fair lady, and well said too, aye gents?” The man's hefty hand slapped the man beside him, who nodded and chuckled mechanically. “But, uh, I certainly hope there's no trouble in your business, yes?”

“I think you know exactly what sort of trouble is about, Mayor,” Redmun said. He had little more tolerance for fools for Jessa, but at least he didn't have to pretend to be good with them. “We heard about your issue a week ago, and from the yelling I heard from your home, I assume the issue hasn't been resolved?”

The mayor's jowls wobbled a little as he formed several words without sending them off, before finally settling on them. “I assure you, good Possessors, that our pact is healthy as rain! Even have a permit for it, signed by Emelia Khelvorias herself! Wouldn't swindle our honoured guardians! Haha!” The Mayor waited for them to laugh too, wiping his hands against his suit. “I-It's just that we, as the residents of Potsdoor, have a need to ensure our status quo will remain unaltered, you understand?”

“But it's already been altered, hasn't it?” Jessa said.

“Now that's not necessarily true, you see,” the Mayor said, nodding as if that made it so. “Something has happened up in the Marsh, you see, though we know not what. Only that our, ah, monthly delivery wasn't accepted – But “

Potsdoor was a new settlement, made far closer to the Great Marsh than anyone had dared before. That probably meant it's Pact was something rather drastic, and judging by the crazy number of children running around, it wasn't hard to guess what their 'Monthly Delivery' would be. A cheap deal, as far as things ran, which was a bad sign. What else had this idiot signed away without realizing? They'd find out soon enough, Redmun supposed.

Not that the Mayor needed to worry about any of that. “There's no need to fret, Mayor Duntown. We were travelling, and heard your trouble, so we've come to help,” Redmun said, patting the man on the shoulder cheerily. Duntown flinched from Redmun's hand. “I'm sure you've plenty to get back to on a healthy day such as this. We'll not take your time. Merely point us in the direction of your 'Local Lord', and we'll ensure the Pact stays true and abided by, yes?”

Heavy breaths whirred through the man's nostrils, his face turning steadily pinker. His deep-set eyes glanced at the barkeep, who stood like stone, save for his graceful hands working the tankard shiny beyond words, and then back to the strangers, looking even upon Jessa's lovely complexion with sudden distaste. The Mayor, it seemed, was offended.

“You are, of course, welcome to stay at the tavern and visit our stores, Master Possessors, but a delicate pact at a delicate time means your presence here could foil years of hard work, you see?” His forced pronunciations and phrasings were slipping away, revealing the entirely local man beneath. “Have a rest of your feet, and come see me in the morning, and we'll have a good talk. Your help might be welcomed, if you can stay your Evils.”

“Of course we can, Mayor Duntown,” Jessa assured the man, her voice serious. “Can you handle yours?”

The Mayor raised his nose high. “Until tomorrow, I certainly can. Good day.” All but pushing his retainers out of the way, Duntown stomped out of the building, and back into the pouring rain. His two, dull-looking friends followed quickly behind.

“A permit signed by Emelia Khelvorias herself?” Jessa asked, half a smirk on her face. “My faith in our ruler is absolutely solidified.”

Redmun chuckled, but couldn't make himself outright laugh. This had been bad enough before it turned out their Mayor was an outright fool. “We need to get them out of here,” Redmun muttered, looking about the sparsely populated room. “It's a miracle this place survived so long with that man at its head.”

“Refill?” the bartender asked, voice a little too sharp not to have heard their mumblings.

Redmun raised his hand. “Many thanks, but no.” Redmun rubbed at his face. He'd hoped their business here would be easy, or at least quick. This was the fifth lead they'd had in as many years, and he didn't have his hopes up of finding his father here. But if the damned Mayor wasn't going to help, then he'd find someone else. His eyes wandered up to the barkeep, still polishing the cup in his hands. That harrumph he'd heard from the man hadn't just been disapproval. Perhaps a bit of insubordination?

“Say, friend barkeep,” Redmun said, an idea appearing in his mind. He looked into the man's eyes, and saw in them the sort of competence that had saved more lives than any weapon. Yes, this was a man he could like, though he'd need to be careful. “Ever wondered what it'd be like if some things were up to you?”

“Aye, I might say at times I have,” the man said, his already wrinkled forehead wrinkling further.

“That's good, because it just might be that I can make things happen, if you're willing to help.”

That mug slammed down onto the table with a harsh bang. “The Mayor might tolerate your clever words, boy, but I won't,” the barkeep barked. Redmun lowered his head in apology. “But,” the barkeep said after a moment, “if you're askin' if we can help each other, aye. Maybe we can.”

The two strangers grabbed their coats, and were out the door not a few minutes later, headed south, into the Marsh as the bartender had said.

The heavens still assaulted the earth as the two strangers strode onwards, ducking between the buildings. Already the mud was giving way beneath their feet, the stench of rotting vegetation growing stronger.

“Very kind of the man,” Jessa said over the downpour, “to let us handle all the work. There's great honour behind that hairy beast, I can see it.”

“Mmm,” replied Redmun.

“Something the matter?” Jessa asked.

“It's quiet.”

A moment of silence, punctuated by the rain, and the slosh of mud. “Isn't that good?”

Redmun shook his head. “At least when it's talking, I know what it's doing – most of the time.”

What are you doing in there? He asked inside of his mind. He could feel it still, inside his heart, just at the edges of its vision. It was usually talkative, but for the past few days… Silence. That couldn't be a good sign.

They reached the edge of the dreary little village, a steep bank leading into the green waters of the Marsh. Heavy smog filled their eyes, making anything below hip level all but invisible. Not that there was much to see. Odd, crooked saplings rose out of the moss islands, like the earth itself was reaching for escape from the pungent haze. To their right, the vague shadow of a single, tall mountain just managed its way through the mist. It had been dubbed Potsdoor Peak: their marker.

Jessa leapt first, landing knee-deep in the thick, root-tangled waters. Redmun instead chose to slide, the sludgy earth scraping through his bare fingers. They mounted the first, soft island, and began their journey, hopping over the water. As they did, Redmun combined the two halves of his spear, previously hidden on his back.

They followed the barkeep's instructions to the letter, heading south about half a mile, then west until Potsmouth Peak was between them and the northern sky then south some more.

They followed the path exactly, seeing unlit torch-poles and lanterns littered along the way. There was no talking, only the bubbling of the swamp, the queer calls of distant beasts, and the buzzing of insects so large you could put a leash on them. Neither Possessor bothered swatting the things, too intent in their listening. When you couldn't see, you had to hear.

Stop.

“Stop,” Redmun echoed, and Jessa stopped just before leaping onto the next, quite large island. Redmun frowned, listening for more of the thing's words. None came.

“What is it?” Jessa asked, looking worried for the first time that day. Redmun just shook his head. There was something about the next island… Redmun pointed to it.

Jessa regarded it, and nodded. She raised her left, gloved hand, and set her jaw. A spirit-hand shot out, thrice the size of her own and cast in a translucent blue, and clawed a meter-long, jagged gash along the edge of island.

The mass shook, and began to rise. Underneath the mound, now a shell, a tangled, skeletal monstrosity looked back at them with Marsh-Light eyes. Its body a mess of thick, gnarled roots in the mixed shape of man and spider. Several of its arms came forward, creating a curtain of dripping swamp weed to their right and left. Even considering its enormous size, it moved as if wounded.

It's dark, leaking, weedy mouth came forward, held aloft by a trunk's worth of roots, and spoke in a cavernous gurgling. “SPEAK.”

Redmun glanced at Jessa, looking as confused as he felt. Well, their official business there was maintaining the pact between the village, and the local leader of Evils. That meant they didn't have to fight it.

Jessa stepped forward, looking right into the thing's monstrous face. “Why was your pact not upheld, Evil?”

The thing raised one of its many, skeleton-like root-hands, which constricted Jessa in its grasp, and picked her up. The blue light of its eyes glowed on her face.

“THE PACT HAS ENDED.”

It's here.

Redmun frowned, trying to pay attention to the Evil before them. What? Where?

A bright spot appeared in his vision, like a tunnel of light that made looking easier – a point at the back of the thing's tangled mess of vines. Redmun squinted, trying to make out what it was. “Oh.”

Redmun had given up hoping of ever finding what he was looking for – what Rose had trained him to look for – but it was there, before him. Through the forest of dripping roots, towards the back of the Swamp-beasts form, a collection of roots was being held aloft, apart from the rest, dripping something thicker and darker than swamp muck. The black, tar-like ooze sizzled as it collided with the water. More gnarled and twisted than the rest of its body, those roots were flaking away slowly.

That had been their real reason for coming, the thing Redmun had searched for years to find, and never seen before.

We've finally stumbled upon your father, Frail Redmun, the Light-Evil said, its ancient voice sporting not a small amount of playfulness. I only hope he's still here.

Redmun turned back to the Evil before them, stepping forward. “When did the Walking Corruption come here?”

The long, moss-covered neck careened before him, it's azure eyes measuring him. Those crippled roots swung around to its front, held before Redmun's face. So close, he could feel the bursts of heat and cold, the rotten stench of madness coming from the ooze. The thing was tough – it had survived the week since they'd learned of Potsdoors trouble, if not longer. It was still going to die, though, whether or not Redmun killed it.

“A MOON AGO,” the maw gurgled. “ITS PLAGUE ENDED MY LANDS, MY CHILDREN. ONLY I REMAIN.” The maw came closer, looking between the two. “WHY HAVE YOU TRAVELLED HERE? WHAT OF THIS CORRUPTION?”

“What did it look like?”

“A MAN.”

“I know that already,” Redmun said, aiming his spear at its face. “What did he look like?”

The thing's head turned towards the defiled roots, steady globules of ooze dripping from its ends. “LIKE THIS. LIKE A MAN.”

“Where was he travelling?”

The long neck twisted, the blue flames considering Redmun. “STRANGE THINGS SURROUND YOU, HUMAN. YOU SEEK IT?”

“Yes,” Redmun said, and heard Jessa's voice in unison. Her lips pressed in a thin, but warm smile just for him.

“HUBRIS.” The Swamp-beast stood to its full height, taking Jessa with it. “HUBRIS, ARROGANCE AND IDIOCY. YOU THINK TO DESTROY IT?” Its body shook rhythmically, like laughing. “IT LEFT UNDER THIS SUN.”

“What?” Jessa asked, glancing at Redmun. “You mean it's actually here?”

“Finally.” His heart began to race. “Where did it go?”

“THE PACT HAS ENDED.”

“Potsdoor,” Jessa whispered.

“ENOUGH.” The grip binding Jessa constricted. She screamed.

Roots surged forward. Redmun moved, diving over the soft ground. The light inside him raged, its burning, purifying energies coursing through his veins. The thing was trying to push him forward, trying to force him to use its power. He refused it.

Dashing forward, spear braced in his hands, he charged against creature. Faint, glowing claws slashed again and again through the roots which held Jessa, her mouth flinging out constant curses and insults. Redmun diverted his momentum towards her, and leapt. He let out a single burst of energy into his palm, which flashed with Light. He grabbed hold of the vines, and they fell away to dust.

Redmun landed in the muck, and moved too slow to dodge the next surge. It grabbed him by the neck, the roots splintering into his skin as it wrapped around his flesh. Another ghost-hand reached out from Jessa's, shredding the roots.

Just from that small burst of power, Redmun felt like a crisp, shriveled husk. Yet, weakened or not, this was a dangerous Evil, more than they could usually handle. Again the power rose inside of him, the Evil pushing him into using its light, and this one time, he obliged.

Dashing forwards through the sludge, Redmun used the first footing he could find to launch himself up, into its roots, spear forward. He funneled the light through his arm and into his spear, the entire limb feeling like it was aflame, and used it as a torch to see into the thing's mess of a body.

A rain of grasping vines crashed down, binding him tight. In a desperate thrust of his arm, he aimed the shining spear as deep as he could where roots concentrated around an under-side of the mound, protecting something. The spear sliced clean through the tangled mess, touched the creature's hard shell, and passed straight through.

The constricting stopped. He tried to wriggle free of the strangling roots, but the enormous Evil's shell was already collapsing, its eyes no-long aglow. Redmun only got a few feet away before the shell crashed into the water, dragging him with it.

Dirt and muck rushed into his eyes, nose, ears, and mouth, but he'd managed to gasp a single breath before being submerged. He struggled with the tangled vines, wriggling desperately to get under the lip of the shell. A cold hand grasped his, and yanked with supernatural strength up, out of the water and onto land.

He hacked up the muck, clearing his eyes, ears and nose of the stuff. Somehow, he'd managed to keep hold of his spear. As soon as he could stand, he ran, already hearing the screams of Potsdoor.