Tukufu and the Red Frescos

Very nicely done, Eric. I look forward to part two, as well.

PART II

“So your ‘master plan’ essentially consists of just riding out there alone?” Belinay asked.

I was on the receiving end of another woman giving me a measuring look. My wife was curled up in my favorite chair, rereading my copy of Cosmology by Netius the Elder. Belinay was looking at me over the top of the scroll. “I know you said the place is abandoned, but what about traps?”

“Sachya didn’t see anything like that.” I said, “Besides it’s a villa, not a treasure vault. No one puts traps in the middle of where they live.”

“Oh really? No one…” Belinay looked past me to where the rare texts room was. She was positively scowling when she looked back at me.

“Uh, …look if by some chance there’s an ancient library there I promise I’ll stay away from it.” And yeah okay – if you know me at all, you’re right – that was a bald faced lie. If there was a library in the ruins I’d swim through a river of scorpions to reach it. My wife certainly wasn’t fooled. But I got lucky. Rather than call me out she moved on.

“Special Weather? Wild animals? Bandits?”

“I have gear for that and I’ll take all my flintlocks. If worse comes to worse I’ll abandon the horses and slip sideways…all the way home on foot if necessary.” That plan made good theory but I’ve never tested the proposition. As it happens there is essentially no strain to that particular manifestation of the Arcanum. So I could probably do it over and over again without passing out or exploding my head. But no one I knew had ever tried to cast it every few seconds over extended travel either. Most vals can’t learn it at all, though somehow its part of my unusual heritage. Mostly it’s only elorii who use it. And as an Altherian I’m not overblessed with an abundance of elorii friends.

“You trust Sachya?”

“Uh…Saycha?” Where did that come from? “Sure. I mean she’s … a Milandsian. Maybe if there was some magical ‘Golden Idol’ involved … but it’s just frescos. It’s not her kind of thing. Or … I don’t even know. Once upon a time she was Dad’s squire. So yeah. I trust her.”

Belinay got up and crossed the floor to me.

“You realize don’t you that this is a dumb idea?” She leaned in and I felt her soft lips on the corner of my mouth. She snuggled against me for a moment. “Some women would worry about a rival lover,” she pulled away and padded back to the chair.

“Just make sure you come home in one piece.”
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I can sit a horse well enough, but the bandits of the Blessed Lands are all masters of the saddle. Travelling alone, I kept a very wary eye out on the horizon. Thankfully the trip out proved to be uneventful. In the morning light, with dramatic long shadows still on the ground, the Blessed Lands has a stark inspirational beauty. I found the first few hours of travel calm and peaceful.

Following Sachya’s directions I trotting out to a flyspeck village called Broken Arch. There some hard eyed men watched me while I paid for the privilege of watering my mounts. Not exactly friendly. But there were also lots of kids merrily playing a game with a rag ball in the dust. I figured the place must be alright. From Broken Arch it was a straight shot to some scrub infested hills about three miles away.

So far so good.

If I hadn’t known where the villa was, I never would have wended my way deep enough into the thorny brambles to spot the ruins. I wondered a little why Sachya had come this way at all. The sun beat down on me, and I was pretty much done with”the poetry of the morning light” thing. The afternoon was hot. My bottom was sore, I was sweating, and everything looked brown and grey and drab. Thankfully I found it, half buried with sand and grit. My heart beat a little faster at the thought of new secrets from the past.

Bandits were still a real concern. So I made myself take the time to look thoroughly for ambushes, recent encampments or even just signs of passage. Nothing. The area was essentially pristine.

Yes! Dumb idea or not, I was going to get away with this.
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The layout, from what I could see, was a somewhat like the large domus of a Coryani senator. But the entrance was buried and half collapsed and the few windows on the exposed wall were tiny things, high up and narrow like arrow slits. If this place is early Coryani and not First Imperium they probably are arrow slits. I cursed myself a little because I hadn’t asked Sachya where and how she had entered the building. And, you know, in retrospect that would have been a pretty useful question.

I wasn’t getting in at ground level.

So I hobbled the horses and got up on top. I was a little surprised to see that the roof ran across the entire structure. In Coryan, a structure this big would have had an open interior space. Probably a columned peristyle open to the sky. But given the weather in the Blessed Lands I could understand a desire to restrict ones exposure. Or maybe the place did date to the First Imperium and wasn’t on a Coryani floor plan. Without more details it was hard to know.

The roof sloped ever so slightly inward to a compluvium. To the uninitiated, that’s the opening in the roof over the impluvium below where rain water is gathered. For me, it was going to be my front door. I carefully picked my way across ancient tiles to look down. Some light was slanting in but I wanted to illuminate the floor. I lit a torch and dropped it down.

I could see sand and grit had blown in over the ages and had made a shallow dune bellow me. The torch sputtered, but even in the uneven light I could see lots of tiny tracks from mice. Or maybe small lizards. Obviously not a threat. I’m no wildlife expert, but I thought the tracks were a good sign. Whatever it was that made them was running around freely– so probably no dangerous predators were lairing here.

I had brought up two long spears and a backpack full of “useful things.” I pulled a coil of rope from the backpack and tied the spears together in an “X” and braced them across the compluvium. I then dropped the extra length of rope to the floor and pitched the backpack over. It landed with a loud thud and I waited a long beat.

No response from anything inside.

I think it’s just me.

So I climbed down.

Curiouser and curiouser.

Enjoying this. I’ll have to add a notation of an Andyar village called the Broken Arch into the manuscript.

Wouldn’t want the esteemed Master Tufuku exploits doubted.

There are no reason they could not be from a non-human race. However, by this point the sands of time may have wiped away all of the features except the structure, rendering their exact nature unknown.

Strange note*: For some reason, the people of this tiny village have never seen or heard of the val’Inares. In all their memories nobody of that family has ever passed within sight of their village. If asked about this, the val’Inares will make comments about having something else to do and walk away. . .

* = This is completely made up and so far has no actual basis in canon Arcanis records

PART III

I felt joy.

I was standing just outside the column of light that entered through the hole in the roof. Dust tickled my nose as I looked around. Everything was indirectly illuminated at best. I had a moment to daydream of somebody painting this scene and calling it “the Archaeologist.” Or maybe “the Discoverer.” And this Atrium was the barest beginning. Looking around there were no physical signs that anyone had walked here for … years. Centuries? Sachya must have come in another way. The shadows invited me to wander in deeper and see things long concealed from men and women.

I closed my eyes and took a minute to run my “water meditation.” As you might know, all psionic powers ultimately flows from meditation. At this point, in a pinch, I can center and release my power in as little as one full breath. But as I summoned arcane lights I relaxed and stretched it out. I visualized the north shore of Altheria where it meets the Gulf of Yarris. I pictured it dark and stormy, full of whitecaps, waves, and treacherous currents. Then as I breathed in through my nose and out through my mouth I calmed the waters in my mind. The waves died down. The Gulf grew flat. And I was left with the light of Illiir reflecting off a sea that was mirror calm.

Psionics give off significant sensory displays. As I did this there was an audible hum and, of course, the pervasive smell of oranges. I spontaneously awakened in an orange grove. Everything I manifested came with its smell. Wisps of gold and silver light coalesced into three glowing orbs that orbited my head.

I turned my attention to the floor mosaics.

What am I looking at? I saw a musician courting a lady. Maybe Cadic wooing Larissa? That would be fairly unusual for an atrium. Or I could just be in an ancient brothel, I thought wryly. But no, I was too far from anywhere for that. And it would have been more explicit. I had called this room an atrium automatically, but as I looked around it didn’t particularly seem to be laid out in the Coryani style. I left it and walked deeper into the ruins.

There were smaller rooms that led off to the left and right but a main hallway carried me back into a large colonnaded room with a tiled geometric pattern on the floor. Found them! The walls were covered in red frescos. And such frescos! They were eye grabbing and extraordinary! They wrapped all the way around three sides of the large room. Magnificent figures. My first thought was that it looked like a wild party full of drinking and strange costumes. But then I thought it might be an initiation ceremony with mythic creatures. It really depended on context. Several female figures looked remarkably the same. If they were different figures then this was just a party scene. But if they represented the same women in sequential panels, there was a narrative here.

The art work was sensuous, and it was clear to me that a great deal of effort and expense had gone into it. It was all highly professional in quality. Which I found pretty surprising considering that I was in the middle of nowhere. That made me lean towards a First Imperium date…though the Frescos were remarkably well preserved if truly that old.
What was I standing in? This building wasn’t some shack. It had to be the abode of someone with wealth who liked their privacy. Or an organization with wealth.

So many questions.

My attention kept being pulled to the last panel on the right. Next to a winged figure, presumably either a valinor or someone dressed as a valinor, there were four women in two pairs. The first pair featured a woman who was half undressed on her knees sobbing into the lap of a sitting matron. The second pair were of a nude woman dancing while a different matron looked on with a staff or rod. Maybe it was the red background, but I intuitively suspected that it was connected to Larissa. Perhaps actors in a passion play, or an initiation ceremony. If the weeping woman and the dancing woman were the same then what I was looking at was Larissa. First seeing cosmic horrors and weeping into Saluwe’s lap. Then her subsequent attempt to alleviate what she saw through unrelenting sensation.

Lord of Knowledge! What if this was First Imperium and this location was part of where the Sensates got started? Would they have been initially accepted? Might they want an out of the way place to gather and discuss the changes to Larissa?

I was allowing my fancy to get way ahead of the facts on the ground. I reigned myself in. Maybe there was an oasis here at one point and there really was a brothel to cater to the travelers. Or this was an early Coryani era abode. Or … well anything. I’d only just gotten here.

I pulled out a scroll case with some scraps of paper, a quill, and a tiny bottle of ink. I’d sketch out the figures. It would help me explain what I saw later to others. The prolonged focus might also help me to notice important details. I would have to take my time with this; I wanted a full interpretation. I sat down in ancient dust, long undisturbed by the tread of man, and started my drawings.

This was so much more satisfying than a stash of ancient coins.
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When I saw movement in the corner of my eye I dropped everything and whirled.

Nothing.

Nerves, brave hero? I felt embarrassment as my heart sped up. I usually worked with a partner or two when exploring. Now I remembered how very alone I was out here. My previous bubble of joy and contentment popped. Carefully I turned around. I let two of my glowing lights wink out and mentally sent the third away from me to the right as I faded to the left and hopefully into deeper shadows. It was probably nothing, or just a damn lizard. But I shifted behind the columns where I hoped I couldn’t be seen and started quietly retracing my steps to where I thought I had seen movement.

Honestly, if I had only found someone to watch my back I would have dismissed it. But I was by myself. So I kept going. Only my foot prints in the dust. I quietly drew my rapier and flintlock.

There. On the floor was a long thin rivulet of … blood?

What the hell? I’m not bleeding.

I stepped out and over to blood and knelt. And then the first crossbow bolt whizzed over me. My head came up as I peered back down the way I had first entered. I saw figures. Too late, I figured it out. Bloodspider! Someone had used magic to scout out the room.

I didn’t like the implications of that!

I was already diving into a shoulder roll to the right. Kind of a dumb flashy move. Try doing that sometime without stabbing yourself with a drawn sword! Another bolt shot down the corridor to where I’d just been kneeling. Right. Brilliant move. I was past the opening to the corridor and out of the line of fire.

How many were there?

A woman’s voice commanded, “Hold fire!”

Breathe in. Out. The smell of oranges. A flare of silver light. I drew on the Arcanum. I heard the woman shout out, “He’s casting!” as I slipped sideways. I ran toward the figures. They could shoot as many crossbows as they wanted. While this spell was up, for all intents and purposes I was intangible to their attacks. Run out. See what was there. Run back to cover before the spell ended. Not a problem.

I ran out.

It was Sachya. She had a Sorcerer-Priest and four ugly thugs with her. I’m sure my mouth dropped open, but I didn’t have time for questions or curses. Two more crossbow bolts flew toward my chest…and right through me. Goons one and two were already reloading. Goons three and four looked at me in disbelief. Four was bald, I have no idea why that stuck in my head.

“I said Hold Fire!”

Sachya still had a loaded crossbow. I wheeled and ran back for cover.

“Unravel it,” I heard her say.

I had just enough time to think, … uh I’m out of phase with reality here, can slip sideways be unraveled? The Sarishian barked some words in Altherian with a grotesque infernal accent. Then my spell ended prematurely. And Sachya shot me.

Oh no! Tukufu is in trouble again?

Ludwig val’Tensen hopes he makes it.

PART V

I stood there feeling stupid and useless.

I was bottled up and about to be mobbed. With the Arcanum I could probably deal with a mob all at once. But Nerseh, their Sarishian, was going to counter anything I tried to do. Think! I still had two flintlocks, which would probably do for Sachya. If the crossbows didn’t get me first…but even if I killed her, I’d still be pin-cushioned. A bad trade. I could have charged their position before they reloaded, but they’d hear me coming and be ready for a brief and bloody melee. Maybe some of the people I’ve travelled with could have pulled that off. Like Rikard. Or Ceres. Even Armand. I’m a good swordsman, but probably not tough enough to walk out of that.

I need to whittle them down.

But that meant an ambush or magic. But I was the one who had been ambushed. And my magic was being shut down. The first flutters of panic started to claw at my heart.

I need to come at them from behind. From surprise.

I heard them start moving. Too late! They were coming. They knew where I was and they’d see my power signature the first time I tried …

Well wait.

No, that was not necessarily true. All casters can release power with subtlety. It’s just a lot harder. And hardest of all for psions. In fact it was so fiendishly hard, I had never bothered to try it before. Under normal circumstances it was always flat out better to put that extra effort into, you know, bigger explosions. What can I cast from concealment? Force push? No. Too complicated! I had to discard all my usual attacks.

No. Not an attack. A trick. Smoke and mirrors. Lights and sounds. A false display!

They were at the edge of the room.

I thought of Belinay as I reached out with my power. I yearned to make it home and fold my arms around her. There! At the far end of the room, by the furthest pillar, a dim silver light glowed and a crackle of fire could be heard from behind it. And of course, the smell of oranges. Couldn’t forget that! I bit my lip with the effort, but for the first time ever I cast without any display around me.

My life is balanced against a cheap parlor trick.

I got away with it. They moved past my hiding place. Sachya. Followed by the goons who spread out a little. There were only three of them. Mustache must be down. Finally, after what seemed like forever, the Sarishian. They were all focused on the furthest pillar and the Sarishian started to cast something. Like a shadow I stepped out and raised the flintlock. My left arm still hurt but I was less than 10 feet away. Taking my fate into my own hands I pulled the trigger, and shot him in the back of the head.
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The flintlock sounded like an explosion in the enclosed space. One of the Chauni, Baldy, just about jumped out of his skin – and discharged his crossbow into the ground. A lucky break for me. Ignore him for the moment. I was already moving. Everyone was trying to whirl about but I was in their midst at that point. I swung my rapier in a sweeping arc, from left to right and high to low, as I passed between the two that still had loaded weapons.

The one on my left I slashed across his throat and he fell gurgling. The one on my right tried to bring his crossbow to bear and shot in my general direction. But I had moved past where he was aiming, and my sword continued the arc to rake down across the outside of his right arm. It Cut all the way down to the bone. He dropped the crossbow and fell to his knees howling.

Three of five down.

Sachya recovered even as I finished the swing. My blade was out of alignment for defense and all I could do was throw the flintlock at her. My left arm wasn’t cooperating and my throw was both feeble and wide. I caught the flat of her shield. The air in my lungs went out with a “whuff” and again I found myself on the ground.

I heard the last Chauni draw his scimitar. Then he and Sachya stepped forward and loomed over me. I was still trying to get up.

That was fine. As they readied killing blows I breathed in and out, and slipped sideways again. No one was around to dispel it this time! Their blades passed through me. I took my time standing up and dusting myself off. And I drew my third flintlock. There must have been something in my eyes because Baldy, the last Chauni, threw down his sword and backed away into the corner.

Sachya looked a little gray and her lips were pressed together in a thin line. But she stood her ground in what I recognized as the Holmgang style of fighting. I really should have found something to say to her. Though just what I still have no idea. The moment passed as the spell ended. I fully came back into reality.

After hardening in the Crusade, I was sure I was a better fighter the Sachya even roughed up and a little bloody. I fired off a couple of quick jabs with my sword just to probe her defenses. She stayed calm and kept her shield up. I couldn’t get the tip of my rapier around it. Meanwhile her broad sword flicked in and out like a serpents tongue in quick feints. She used the shield to conceal as much of her movements as possible, and I started to hate the thing.

I concentrated on my footwork. I tried moving in circles and triangles timed in response to her attacks. I wanted to pass by her guard and strike from an unprotected angle. She wasn’t used to that. But Sachya also managed to wrong foot me repeatedly playing games of “stab and bash” or “trap and cut.” We each got nicked a few times. Nothing serious. Neither of us said anything as we fought in the room with the red frescos. We kept at it for a long minute looking for a real opening. It wasn’t long before we were both starting to blow hard. I realized I had been wrong, Sachya’s sword-work was just as good as mine.

I was still two decades younger than her. If it came down to endurance I had the upper hand.

During the circling I did have one disadvantage. I had to keep half an eye on the Chauni lest Baldy rediscover his courage. I had the flintlock ready just in case. Sachya rolled the dice during one of the moments when my eyes flickered away from her.

Sachya committed everything to sudden powerful lunge. If it had landed she would have impaled me. But I was already changing direction in a triangle move and I passed to the outside of her sword. If only just. I dropped to my right knee as I moved forward and lashed down at her foot. My rapier really wasn’t designed for close quarter slashing. But it was made of fine steel and I scrupulously kept its edge honed. I felt it go through the leather boot and down into her foot.

Sachya screamed. She sort of half hopped a step to her left. But she still had it together enough to start to back swing with her broadsword. I was a little faster as I slid my left foot behind her in a half moon step so I faced her right side. Then before I got decapitated, I came up inside the her sword and plowed into her. Finally that damn shield was out of my way! I drove my sword just under her chain shirt and up through her body all the way to the hilt.

Her scream cut off.