Path of the Deathless

357 (II) Glimpse

357 (II)Glimpse

The memory dissolved before Uva could see what happened next, and an ache took hold of her. The details, the moments, they were dreamlike, but so vivid, and she wanted to see more.

And it wasn’t just her who was affected.

“Holy… shit…” Shiv coughed. His groans of pain dissolved into disbelieving laughter. “Felling… hells. All this evolving… All this power. And the well just… just keeps going up?”

The Farwalker snorted in response. “The feeling never quite fades.”

Evanescia asked, her hands on her hips, the outline of her person portraying a posture of judgment.

The man Uva now knew to be Produrveral sniffled. “The girl wanted some perspective. Who was I to deny her that? Same way I'm not actually getting in the way of whatever story you're trying to tell yourself. That's why I jumped us over here rather than all the way to Chorus. I know you still have a claim on them, and I just want to make sure Transcendent Thann’s newest anti-mortality project doesn’t cause another pantheon extinction event.”

“Transcendent?” Shiv wheezed. “How many Tiers is that… past Legend?”

“I’ll tell you if you reach Mythic,” the Farwalker replied flippantly. “And another thing, Narrator: I know you’re used to being protected because He Who Walks Beyond is sentimental about his mother’s works, but me pullin' the Deathless out of the fire was a favor to you, cause if this project gets aborted prematurely, I guarantee you Udraal’s sentimentality will shrivel. He probably won't touch the Watchtower—that’s still a marvel. But the tower’s chief custodian can always be . You get me?”

The tension unceremoniously bled out of Evanescia. It seemed she'd lost interest in this conversation. Striding away from the Farwalker, she waved for him to get on with his work.

“Sure.” Produveral’s mechanical blue optics became a swirl of moving sigils, each part twisting and turning like the hands of a clock. His gaze fell upon Uva and washed right through her. She knew what he was looking at.

“You can't have him,” Uva growled, but though her will might be dauntless, what could she do against—

“Die standing,” he interrupted her thoughts. “You can fight me regardless and die standing. Because why the hell else are we here, huh? Might as well be a bit of a brat before the end.”

She blinked in confusion. Was he trying to encourage her?

“Listen, this audit and certification will only take a minute. If things go the way I expect them to, then I'll be out of your hair real soon, and she'll be back in yours.” He gestured at Evanescia. “Things don't go so well… If it means something to you, you better spend what time you have left with him while you're still inside the Fairwoods, because come time that he slips out, I’ll be there. And that’ll be that. And if not me, then Centauri will send someone else. Better us than one of the other Farwalker Civilizations.”

“Other?” Shiv grunted. Uva felt a hand grasp her shoulder. He pried at her—battled to stay conscious and functional. “It’s… it’s alright, Uva. Just… Put me down. I think… I think we’re due a conversation here… Him and me.”

Uva hesitated. She desperately wanted to protect him, but she couldn't, not against Pathbearers beyond the realm of Legends. She knew she couldn't, but knowing and feeling are two different things. Uva disentangled herself from Shiv with reluctant slowness and slipped under his arm to serve as a much-needed support. It was a testament to Shiv's cockroach-like nature that he wasn't dead, but still, he was broken—barely able to stand on his own. So she helped him. She held him up so his weight wouldn't strain him, and so he could face the one who came to judge him.

The ambient symphony, hummed by the surrounding fairy flowers, took on a tense quality. Their voices grew shrill with the passing of the winds, and Evanescia watched from the side. Her silhouetted head turned to regard Shiv, and then the Farwalker, a step away from him. Produveral himself, shrouded in flapping brown garb, stood just a bit taller than Uva. Aside from the mechanized armor he wore, there was little about his physical features that was exaggerated.

Even with a hole in his chest and wobbling on his feet, Shiv loomed over the Farwalker. Ignorant of context and devoid of perspective, it would seem that he was the greater threat between the two. But everyone present knew better, especially Shiv himself. Even so, despite the thrill Shiv got from that glimpse into a Mythic Pathbearer’s power, he remained unshaken before an impossible foe. “So. What’s it feel like, wrestling with worlds?”

“Small worlds,” the Farwalker added. “And in specific conditions. My Physicality’s kind of embarrassing, so no literal wrestling for me.”

“How bad?” Shiv asked.

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“You might beat me in an arm-wrestling match, even now.”

Shiv actually cringed. “How the hells did you let that happen?”

Produveral shrugged. “I liked shooting things and running away too much.”

“Oh, you’re an Adam.”

“Bassttarrrddd…” the man in question unconsciously slurred, even in his state of enforced slumber.

“Nah, I just have one life. Can’t quite say the same thing about you, though.” The Farwalker folded his arms and concentrated his mind magic around Shiv, an ocean of Psychomantic mana congealing around him. Shiv tensed, but his Harbinger flared in full, revealed its near-shattered form, but still ironclad pride. “And there it is: Harbinger of Tripartite Ruin. My least favorite Category-Mythic Restricted Skill.”

Shiv frowned. “It’s… Legendary.”

“It’s a force multiplier, is what it is. Get the right combination of Legendary Skills along with it, and you can drive some mentally ragged Myths into suicidal tantrums. Bad for the longevity of the local continent they’re on at the very least.”

“That great, huh?”

Produveral clicked his tongue. “If you’re dealing with someone who’s a psycho-emotional wreck, sure. The time and mind magic shit is kind of nasty too. You skip off into the future somewhere, and there’s no telling where you might pop up. All-round roach-skill. Which makes it great for you, I guess. And I mean that in a complimentary sort of way.”

Shiv trembled with barely-endured suffering. “So. Uh. How’s this… supposed to work?”

“It’s already working. I’m cataloging the things you’ve done with the skill and…” The Farwalker bowed his head and muttered something under his breath. “Yeah, okay. We’re done here.”

Immediately, Uva and Shiv were hit with another telepathic message.

Shiv cast back via his Harbinger.

The Farwalker shook his head.

Shiv regarded the man in silence. And then his eyes widened slightly. “I think… I think I’ve seen you before.” Produveral said nothing for a moment. “With my Foreshadowing. You were at Weave, months ago. You were… Why were you working for New Albion?”

“Less for New Albion, more against the Core.”

“The Core?” Shiv repeated.

“Legacy Empire. Forbidden Africa. The ConFeds. The Core.” And there was hate aplenty boiling inside the Farwalker’s mind now. “I wasn’t fully in the Composer’s dimension either. Just a trade of favors to keep our old owners down is all. Ancient history. Now. How bad do you want out? Because I know about your little deal with the Usurper-Narrator, and I think I can help you accelerate this little escape story and, if everything goes right, send you home.”

Evanescia’s voice grew low and dangerous.

He didn’t respond to her. Instead, he waited for a reply from Shiv. “It’s her or me.”

Shiv considered his options. And then turned to address Evanescia. “Hey. Evanescia. Quest’s done, right? We beat him. Beat… Longinus.”

Shiv groaned.

“Great. Glad we… got that settled. Now. Can you open a gateway and, uh, give us our stuff and rewards?”

“What are you doing?” the Farwalker asked, sounding more curious than offended.

“Choosing neither,” Shiv answered. “I think I can find my own way home. If you want to register me for whatever this thing is, come talk to me personally at Gate Piety, or better yet, come to The Sky-Swallowing Carp when it comes by to a place near you.”

The Farwalker just stared. “What the hell is a Sky-Swallowing Carp?”

“My restaurant. I’m going to fly it around places and cook and… and shit… Fuck, ow.”

“Evanescia, for fuck’s sake,” Shiv snarled. “You agreed to this. Stop getting greedy or afraid of losing, and just give me what you agreed to. If you don’t, then what’s the point? What are the stakes? Hm?”

“Stakes?” Produveral asked. Slowly, he turned to study Evanescia. “Oh, good lord, you let him use the skill on you already.”

“You let a fucking 19-year-old kid talk his way around you!”

Evanescia pointed at him in offense.

“How convincing can he possibly be?” the Farwalker cried. “You it's the Skill messing with you.”

“I can be… pretty convincing,” Shiv muttered.

“The skill can twist someone’s emotions and bend their mind.” The Farwalker sighed. “I know how it works. Look, she’s a sad, lonely custodian with no social life. Not surprising you wore her down.”

“But trust me, Deathless, you won’t have a chance with me.”

Shiv’s broken Harbinger slowly began to harden. “Really? You wanna bet? Because I’m pretty sure I can… talk you out of this whole capture and extract mission you have going.”

“‘Nescia,” Shiv choked as he nearly toppled over. “Rewards. Levels. And… maybe some soul-fixing. If you’re feeling kind.”