The World of Warelvain: The Quester

If death had signaled its arrival with a fanfare of trumpets, it would have reached a terrifying crescendo at that very moment.

But Obi didn't need a fanfare to know when his eyes was drawn to death, especially not here. In the distance, the wind swept thick stone-colored layers of smoke away, twisting them into rolls of platted dark wool and then, once pleased, allowing the columns to pass through its incorporeal fingers like sand, like time. The smoke and ash did a whirling, frightening dance in the sky, waltzing and prancing before just drifting away, as if the happiness of being free had given it lift to rise and rise, disappearing into the atmosphere, never to be seen in the same shape again. The smoke appeared as thick as a black basalt tower from this distance; not energetic, but baleful in its own way, like hardened ropy lava spiraling slowly in a leisurely tornado.

But it wasn't the smoke that made him nervous; smoke may have been caused by a variety of factors. The fire was what he was worried about. The presence of the flame was established by the ruby-red light in the sky and the boom of the smog, even though it could not be seen (since the town spread over the rise of a high hill). The fire appeared so strong that it had robbed the sunset of its everyday radiance, like a mountain climber establishing his claim to the summit. While the sunset appeared soft, tranquil, even playful, the engulfing blaze sent competing colors of deeper red and gold, forming a firestorm that spread out, painting a deep crimson bleed across the countryside. It was as if staring at a bloodied, shredded body that had fallen over a bed of pink roses.

Obi concluded that the fire had to be massive in order to have such an effect on the sky. What might have resulted in such devastation? In this region of the world, surely not an invasion? The Magius man scowled deeply and tightened his sack across his right shoulder, still standing, still unsure what to do. The sack slid effortlessly over his naked shoulder and hairless silver skin, revealing only a glimpse of the unusual being's golden trail of hexagonal scales that ran the length of his arms, legs, over his temples, and down his neck.

He scanned the scene with his wide-apart, colorless (and pupil-less) eyes, looking over the surrounding wooded region and into the wild ravine to his left. He was standing on a muddy ridge trail that skirted the edge of a forest, not far from the blazing town. Even here, the ruby glow appeared to poison the environment, casting red shadows on the tops of Cedar and Larch trees as well as on the thinly running trickle of two parallel streams that ran under him across the valley. He looked down over the hill, at ease at the familiar height of what he saw to be a short drop.

'Isn't it a lovely evening? ' Came the voice from behind him, almost forcing him to jump and tumble over the cliff.

Obi swung around fast, his strong silver tail slipped near to the cliff's edge, grounding him in case of a surprise attack. He found himself in the presence of a Mortal.

'You speak Magius,' Obi remarked after a little pause in his native tongue.

'It's a wonderful language,' said the Mortal. Aside from the fact that the man talked in flawless, uninterrupted Magius, there was something unusual about the voice. There was no resonance or echo when the man spoke. Furthermore, the man spoke with the emotionless tone of a daydreamer or someone who was not fully engaged in his current position. Indeed, the Mortal's voice was a peculiarity that Obi couldn't quite put his finger on and would eventually forget.

'Thank you,' Obi said, staring through the dusk at the man, trying to figure out whether he'd met him before, for he felt something familiar.

Two of the three moons were visible on the horizon at the moment, but he couldn't fully focus on the man's face. He appeared to be disguised by a black hood, despite the fact that he was wearing nothing of the like. Obi's eyesight clouded and grew distracted every time he tried to focus on a specific area of the man's face, and he felt compelled to turn away. Obi's only memory of the man was that he had black hair and beautifully proportioned features, with a clean shaved face. At the same time, he would forget that he had been unable to focus on the man's features due to the ample lighting.

'What is your name? ' Obi questioned, straight and to the point, as was the character of his race.

'A friend,' the Mortal said, knowing Obi had no choice but to trust him. A Magius' belief system included complete trust.

Obi recognized, with a sigh, that he had swollen his body without recognizing it. What was formerly a small, toned figure has been instantly expanded to the bloated physique of a monstrous body-builder. His yellow trail of bordering hexagonal patterns had also been expanded, producing broad golden bands over his enormous muscles. Realizing how ridiculous he must have appeared, he pushed his body to relax, and like a blowfish, he gently deflated, his broad form becoming compact and Mortal-shaped once more.

As being his inclination, he had puffed as if threatened. He had no clue why he had done this, as logic dictated that crossing paths with another pilgrim on the routes was not implausible. However, something... some instinct warned him that this man was perilous. This man was the cause of the weird pain of worry that had creeped its way up into his second stomach. Embarrassed by his foolishness, Obi shifted his gaze to the burning town, hoping to show his faith in the Mortal. His nose-less, hairless profile caught a crescent light of the searing red sky over the far side of his face, giving his round head an almost comical resemblance to Magneti, the second moon.

There was a brief silence. 'A Theurgi has invaded,' the guy muttered, his gaze fixed on the flaming heavens. 'It will kill everything.'

Obi returned his gaze to the strange Mortal. 'Is it a Theurgi? How did you find out...? '

'Do you doubt my word?' he said. The Mortal's tone was rehearsed, possibly deceptive.

'I'm sorry,' Obi said, shaking his head. 'Why would a Theurgi choose to strike such a big town?'

'Food, I'm guessing,' said the Mortal. Obi noticed the man hadn't moved an inch since he first arrived. He was like a shadowy statue, covered in it as if it were a blanket.

'It would be a dumb thing to go there.' There are no vessels to capture and no people to save. Nothing can keep them safe from a Theurgi.'

Obi narrowed his eyes, not because he was suspicious, but because he was curious. He would have inquired how the guy knew Obi had gone to this section of the Enlightened Coast to get passage by ship, but he felt that doing so would transmit a feeling of distrust. He cast another gaze towards the burning town, debating if he should go to save the survivors.

When Obi turned away, the shape of the odd Mortal faded – truly blurred. Its shape grew opaque, slicing into a fleeting flash of several bodies before dissipating as though torn away by the wind. But suddenly the wind died, coming to a standstill, and the Mortal appeared by Obi's side. Obi was not aware of the movement.

A leaf that had been falling had come to a halt in the air.

'There are no survivors,' the statue whispered, his words biting off each syllable and wheezing as they passed the enigmatic man's ordinary lips. 'There isn't much you can do for them right now.'

The wind began to blow anew, and time began to tick again.

The statuesque guy blurred again, and then he was standing on the opposite side, many feet back from where he had initially appeared.

Obi blinked once, understanding numbly that there was nothing he could do for the residents of the town now that there would be no survivors. Theurgi did not leave any survivors. He returned his attention to the Mortal and was going to tell him farewell when he noticed he had moved significantly, a few feet across from where he had been, and Obi had not heard anything.

'Well, stranger, safe travels,' he muttered, mentally shrugging off the peculiarity.

'You seek those who Quest.' The statue cut in.

Obi noticeably jerked back his head, his eyes wide and furrowed by a hairless brow, frowning with astonishment.

'They will pass this way – by ship – in precisely seven days time, by the Cape of Mutteria, to the north-east,' the guy said, lifting a gloved hand and gesticulating woodenly in the direction he had stated.

His movement was strange. It reminded Obi of the old Transcended soldiers whose bones had stiffened and their muscles had failed, yet they continued to fight courageously, long into their twilight years, in the steadfast hope of dying on the battlefield. Their movements were similar in that they were rigid, jerky, painful, and stubbornly forceful.

'You may be wondering how I know this. You may – deep down – distrust.' He flattened his palm over his already extending hand, stopping the protest before it began.

Obi discovered that he, really, had been going to object, but suddenly he couldn't, as if nervousness and terror had gripped the muscles in his chest so firmly that he couldn't bring himself to speak.

'Even so...' The Mortal continued, 'go there at the allotted time, and you will see a ship sailing through called The Grey Etheri.' That is the ship you are looking for; it is the ship of The Questers.'

Obi's lips opened, but he couldn't think of anything to say. After a lengthy period, the Magius nodded and moved away, seeming frantic to get rid of the stranger's menacing presence.

The statue grinned when Obi was gone, out of sight and away from the woods ridge above that untamed ravine.

"What is he to you?" said a voice from the trees. It, too, was devoid of echo, but this voice was deeper, possibly even more Mortal-sounding.

"I've always admired the Magius," the man murmured, without turning to see the pale face peering out from the woods.

"You think many steps ahead, but do you really think the Younger brother can win?" grumbled the voice from the forest.

"If I didn't..." the indistinct figure muttered, turning his head to face the one in the woods. "Then I would not have made the wager; there will be a showdown, and The Younger will be ready for it; I will see to it."

"And The Older will be ready as well."

"All well, then let the games begin."

The guy in the trees turned to look in the same direction Obi had gone. "It appears they already have," he remarked, smiling.

And suddenly both figures vanished.

It didn't happen in a plume of smoke or a flash of light. They suddenly vanished in the blink of an eye, as if they had never existed.

In some ways, they hadn't.