Chương 147: Chapter 222 - Return to Alkazaria

Mirian opened the Mahatan Gate, sent a zephyr falcon to Gabriel, stole Prince Rehiz's jeweled lotuses, then headed down to Urubandar. A few days later, she found Gabriel in one of the palaces he liked to buy, surrounded by prostitutes and servants. The place reeked of alcohol, and Gabriel was swinging about a bottle of wine like a musical conductor. His robe was partially undone. Mirian frowned.

"Gabriel. You're supposed to be learning Gulwenen and researching the Labyrinth."

"Heeey! Mirian… hey everyone, this is Mirian!" the Prophet called to the room. He was only slurring his words slightly.

"She's great… bit humor challenged though, and can kill an archmage. Hey Mirian! Have you killed an archmage?"

"Yes," she said.

"Leave us," she told the servants. When no one moved, she projected her aura out and thought NOW! Every person in the room jumped, except Gabriel, who started laughing.

"Yes, yes, okay, fun's over, everyone can leave—except you," he said, pointing to an older servant.

"Tell the kitchens to prep my regular."

"Your regular, sir?" the servant asked questioningly. Gabriel rolled his eyes and slouched in his chair dramatically. His robe was now completely undone.

"Oh, right. Have to teach them every loop. Cheese platter, then two of the spiced kebabs, then one of those rice dishes, you know the one." He paused, then said, "No, guess you don't know the one. Ah, pick a good one." When he was done with the order, he sighed again like he'd just finished pushing a boulder up a hill and leaned his head back into his cushions and stared at the ceiling.

"Gabriel. Put your damn penis away," Mirian snapped.

"But it's so beautiful," he said in a sing-song voice.

"Or I'll cut it off," Mirian said. That got him to sit up.

"Fine! Fine! God above, no need to be so snippy. You and that Persaman brute, both need to learn how to relax a bit."

"And you need to learn to relax less," she said.

"Naahhhh," Gabriel said. Then, "I'm going to teach that cretin. Maybe I'll cut his dick off. That piece of shit. I came in, and I apologized. Besides, I didn't kill his fucking family. I just brought the RID the intel that Dawn's Peace was shifting tactics. How was I supposed to know they'd tell Baracuel to send in the bloody army?" Mirian looked around. All the chairs were very comfortable looking, but she didn't want to sit on any of them.

"How does Ibrahim know it was you?" Gabriel let out a long groan, head lolling back in his chair, then took another swig of wine.

"I was one of the agents that infiltrated Dawn's Peace." He looked straight ahead, then his face contorted and he hurled the wine bottle he was holding. The glass shattered against the wall, purple liquid splashing across the flagstones and soaking into the woven carpets.

"I was drinking to forget, by the way," he said bitterly.

"I'll talk to him. You can't change the past. But you can build a better future." Gabriel snorted.

"You really think that. Have you picked up a history book?"

"Several, at this point."

"It's always been like this. Fighting. War. Atrocities. Right now, Zhighua is getting trampled by soldiers, but a few thousand years ago, they were the ones conquering and slaughtering. Persama's weak, so Baracuel and Akana come in, but it used to be the Triarchy slapping everyone around. Didn't like being conscripted for their grand projects? They'd take your corpse and animate them. Even the dead didn't have their rest. It doesn't get better, the toys we use to kill each other just get fancier.

Artillery instead of spellrods. Airships instead of spears. Just have to hope you're on the right side of the bloody tide as it sweeps across the land."

"Then this is our chance to fix it."

"Can't fix it," he grumbled.

"It's who we are. It's what humans are." Mirian shook her head.

"I refuse to believe that. The Viaterrians—""—all burned to death in the Cataclysm. They only have the one name because that's what we call them. Doesn't mean they were one people. They probably did the same shit." Then how did they build such magnificent cities? Mirian thought. She had a hard time reconciling the colossal towers she'd seen with even more destructive weapons.

"Look at people. The ones you see walking around every day. The ones working a job, raising a family. Most of them just want a nice, peaceful place to live. A few luxuries, like wine and glyph lamps. Days to relax and celebrate." She thought of what the RID was doing in Akana. She thought of Zayd, who liked sweets and running about in parks.

"If people can be shaped into instruments of war, they can also be shaped into instruments of peace." Gabriel shook his head.

"Tell that to Ibrahim. Or Liuan."

"Liuan and Ibrahim bickered the whole meeting," she said.

"Of course they did. Liuan believes in Akana's military supremacy, just like Ibrahim believes in Persama's. The only thing they agree on is fighting."

"Then we change their minds. They didn't always believe that."

"You really think that—" he started, but then the door opened and three servants brought out trays of food. It smelled delicious. Mirian found her mouth watering despite herself. Gabriel inhaled deeply, then picked up a kebab and started devouring. Through a mouthful of food, he said, "Ough, amd morgh wine!" as the servants left.

"Have you tried being less disgusting?" Mirian asked, picking up one of the kebabs herself. He swallowed and wiped his mouth with a sleeve, covering the fine fabric in oils.

"No. Didn't care much for my reputation before all this, and now it really doesn't matter. What was I saying? Oh, you want the report I bet. Well, sure enough, there's sea monsters moving north along the south coast, so didn't make it all that far. Got shipwrecked but made it to a village, and you bet I practiced my Gulwenen there! Started looking at ship reports and such at the docks so I didn't waste my time. Haven't found any more Vaults, but there's a Labyrinth entrance east of Alatishad. That's it."

"Okay. Thank you," Mirian said, even though she wasn't particularly feeling thankful. That's it? she thought, but she could tell from Gabriel's tone he knew he hadn't accomplished much. Then, he stood up very suddenly.

"Oh! I built a leyline… what's the word?" This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it"Detector?"

"Detector! Yes! Put it somewhere around here…" He started looking around the room.

"How many, um, drinks have you had?" Mirian asked.

"Only two."

"Glasses?"

"Bottles." Mirian put her head in her hands.

"Tell you what, we'll let you sleep that off and then find your leyline detector. And I'll tell you what we got up to when you're sober."

"Oh, that's a good idea," Gabriel said, sitting back down. He started staring off into space, and Mirian took that as a sign to take her leave. She found a room in the palace that looked untouched and began fortifying it with wards.

The next day, while he nursed a terrible headache, she went through the updates of the Council of Prophets. Then, he revealed his leyline detector. Mirian looked at it with only some disdain. It was functional, but only barely.

"Did you calibrate it?"

"Tried," Gabriel said, squinting against the bright light coming through the window. He started paging through a nearby spellbook until he found suppress light and cast it at the window.

"That's better," he muttered. Mirian examined the detector. There were too many flaws in the glyphs. The data was unusable. If she had just been starting out her efforts, it would have been useful for documenting the general area leyline flows, but she already knew the general area. What she wanted was precise measurements, ones that would tell her more about the details of what was going on.

"Keep working on it. Early data in Urubandar could help us figure out what's going on in Tlaxhuaco."

"Or Liuan can just look," Gabriel grumbled.

"She might miss something," Mirian said, but what she was really thinking was, It'll be easier to see if she's hiding something from me. Gabriel seemed content to curse at Ibrahim, and the Persaman warlord didn't make his appearance. Satisfied they at least wouldn't be murdering each other, Mirian departed from Urubandar shortly thereafter.

She arrived in Atrah Xidi's hideout on the 13th of Solem. When she stood there, before her father, and he said, "Naluri," in that breathless, stunned way, his gray eyes shining in the dim light—it broke her heart. She so badly wanted Gaius to remember their first reunion. They hugged, and then she updated him on the situation.

"Alkazaria," he murmured when she'd finished explaining.

"I do miss that city. Or I missed what it was. Hardly recognize it these days, it still looks wrong without the farms inside the walls." They set off north, having packed Gaius's stash of ebonbloom lotuses and three of his soul repositories that he used to store specific soul energies for rune creation.

"This is good timing," Mirian explained as they levitated towards the Southern Range.

"The Praetorians will be leaving Alkazaria to look for you on the 14th. They're leaving by boat, heading to Falijmali, so we'll miss each other. Better that way. They might be useful in excavating the city looking for the Gate, but I'd rather not deal with them." At first, she wasn't sure if her father had heard her, but just when she was about to repeat herself, he said, "Agreed." They both felt the same way about it, then. Mirian had them avoid the fort guarding the pass.

As they approached the city, she had them land at a crossroads and take the ferry across the Ibaihan River. Gaius disguised himself with illusion magic. Soul-binding techniques would no longer work to change him since his body wasn't quite 'living,' so it was the only way. Mirian didn't bother with a disguise. Her glowing eyes would only serve to enhance her claim as Prophet.

Her plan was to do something similar to what she'd done in Palendurio: proclaim herself, then get as many arcanists as she could digging around, looking for the Elder Gate. Problematically, the amount of leyline energy passing through the area made it hard to pinpoint the exact location. She'd already looked around for a few days several cycles back and concluded it wasn't on the surface. She would simultaneously dig and take better leyline data.

All of that would be significantly easier to do now that Ibrahim isn't attacking the city, she thought as they approached the gates. As they wound their way up from Oldport towards Central Hill, Mirian could feel the eyes on her and hear the murmurs. Good, she thought. She wanted to create a stir. Let them see that she wasn't like them. Mirian didn't go directly to the Citadel. She went first to the Great Temples that ringed the stronghold.

"Start working on the leyline detectors, then the divination. The Gate itself will be invisible to magic, but both the conduit crystals and the caverns will show up," she told her father. He nodded and departed. It would be best not to have him and his very notable soul present in front of Luminate priests. Mirian then headed for the first to Altrukyst's Temple. The great doors that led inside were covered in stars. Huge skylights bathed the statue of Altrukyst in the afternoon light.

The God held a great lantern, and Their chest was covered in eyes. She stood before the statue, ignoring those who were praying, until one of the clerics approached her.

"Bring me the high priest. The Ominian calls for the aid of Their brethren, and so do I." The cleric gave her a skeptical look.

"And just who are you?"

"Mirian, Prophet," she said. That brought the high priest out a few minutes later.

"It is heresy to falsely claim—" Mirian manifested Eclipse as he approached and slammed it down into the stone floor. Fissures formed around it as the tip embedded itself.

"There is only one adamantium blade like this, and it is the Sword of the Fourth Prophet," she said to him. The high priest stared.

"You may examine it for authenticity."

"Pontiff Oculo—""He is not aware in this cycle, but he has been made aware in previous ones, or I would not possess the blade. This cycle of Prophets is not like the others. Now, if you would—? Time is of the essence." Mirian knew that when she stood there regally, silver eyes glowing, cloak billowing, with Eclipse in front of her, it had a certain effect.

She gathered the high priests of the other Great Temples next. The followers of Eintocarst, Shiamagoth, Xylatarvia, and Yiaverunan came easily. It was the High Priest of Carkavakom who challenged her. He had a wild look in his eyes. The most devout followers of the God of destruction, law, and fear always did.

"Swords can be stolen. It doesn't take a Prophet to learn the bindings. I would accept the word of Pontiff Oculo, because that is the law we are bound by, and we are nothing if not an expression of Law. But you do not bring that." Mirian heard the high priests she'd collected murmuring behind her.

"Name what you would test me with," she said easily, and let Eclipse dissolve back into her soul. The priest of Carkavakom looked at her and gave her a wide grin, wide enough it seemed almost unnatural. His eyes glimmered.

"What is Carkavakom's law?" If she'd been asked before, Mirian would have told him of the law of consequence, the philosophy that law can only exist with consequence, and Carkavakom embodied that consequence. But every schoolchild knew that.

"The Pact," Mirian said easily, though she wondered if a priest would even know of it. Much of the lore she'd discovered had been lost.

"Have you encountered… them yet?" Mirian cocked her head, looking at the priest. He knows more than the others. He knows more than he should. Something is happening here I don't understand yet. Is he talking about the Elder creatures, or something else?

"Possibly," she said.

"Then you tread on dangerous ground. Even a Prophet follows one law." At that moment, a thin cloud passed over the sun, and the light streaming through the skylights dimmed. She looked up, then examined the priest. When the Elder creature Conductor had mentioned Carkavakom's name, it had come with a mental assault of visions and feelings that had stuck wedged in her mind like a knife.

"Let me show you," she said, and touched his forearm lightly. The soul-communication Viridian had taught her could be used for words, but that was actually more difficult. Like the glyphs, the communication with the soul was more direct than language. An emotion was not put into words, but the feeling itself. She could show the priest what she'd seen: the cavernous sphere of flesh encircling a red sun. A wordless scream.

The eyes of that sphere opening up, and seeing her, only for a fraction of a second, but in that time, her soul had been laid bare. She would have expected the high priest of Carkavakom to scream, but instead, he trembled in place. She couldn't tell if it was fear or divine ecstasy.

"Prophet," he whispered, and knelt immediately.

"Rise," Mirian said.

"There is work to be done." With seven high priests at her back, she entered Alkazaria's Citadel, and made for the chambers of the Council of Five.