They discovered a defensible hollow perhaps two hours into their journey from the inn, well into the heart of the forests where the trees thinned out enough to offer protection against the elements above and naturally formed barriers against any attack from several directions. Gryan was the first to notice the hollow, his military training able to pick out the advantages even through his weariness and the adrenaline crash that was making all of them walk as if through water.
Alucent collapsed against the trunk of a tree the instant they stopped moving, his legs suddenly buckling out from under him. His chest hurt. His lungs ached, scratched from the INSIDE, it seemed, from gasping for breath in their desperate run for safety. The pack he wore was suddenly twice as heavy as it should be, or perhaps his body simply decided it was tired of carrying anything but his own limbs.
The Turquoise Moon, too, was visible through the canopy above, its cyan-purple light shining through in irregular beams that lit up the surroundings in a rainbow of hues that defiantly looked wrong no matter how long he tried to focus on them. His only light source in this darkness. Besides the faint bioluminescent glow of the Ironvine trees that surrounded them and pulsed to the rhythm of their heartbeat.
Raya was gasping for air too, but she'd controlled herself much better during the chase. That was obviously the work of a professional. She was crouching on one knee at the side of the hollow, Weaveblade in hand and ready for any possible chase that might come through the darkness but apparently didn't.
Gryan stood with his back to a large boulder and his mechanical arm folded against his knee. The hydraulic systems in the limbs made soft hissing noises as the pressure cycled in and out, no doubt automated routines activated from the stress he'd applied to the mechanisms in their escape. His flesh hand trembled slightly in the aftermath of adrenaline shock.
They sat in silence for what seemed to be a long period of time. Just taking breaths. Just living. Realizing that they had made it through something that could quite easily have gone horribly wrong.
At last, Raya spoke up. "We have two days of water. Perhaps three if we stretch it out." She was already thinking ahead to the next step, to the things that needed to be accomplished in order to survive. "We need a plan. What is the day?"
Gryan didn't lift his gaze from where he was transfixed, staring at his two hands, his organic and cybernetic limbs lying side by side. His voice was strict military, a totally automatic response to a question of logistics. "It's Fatespool. The nineteenth of Shadebloom. Year 700."
The words hit Alucent mean much the same thing:
Fatespool. Shadebloom. Not Sunday or Monday or January or March. Totally alien-sounding nonsense that his human brain had no basis to relate to, no way to slot into any known pattern. The numbers, of course, made sense - nineteen and seven hundred were simply numbers. But the names.
His head was already thumping from the mental static that lingered in the aftermath of the Bloodmark ritual, from pouring his own pain into the stones and watching the symbols wake with his emotional residue. Now it seemed the static was escalating, making his thoughts muddy and difficult to process, as if simple facts were too complex to understand.
"My head," Alucent said, and he didn't have to simulate the effort in his voice. "It's a blur. Fatespool?"
Raya's gaze locked onto him, sharp and worried. She changed her position, closing the distance to assess him in the light of the moon. "The third day, Alucent. Firstloom, Weavemark, Fatespool." The way she spoke was no longer a military briefing but a note of concern. "Stay with us. We don't need you cloudy right now. Especially with what occurred in the last day."
Alucent nodded, rubbing his temples as if he could will his thoughts into focus that way.
"Right. Fatespool. Just needed a second."
But even while he said this, while he allowed them to think that it was simply magical disorientation, a strange thing was occurring in his thoughts.
The words Raya had said, Firstloom, Weavemark, Fatespool, they weren't foreign anymore. They slotted into place with a familiarity that was horrifyingly, shake-your-head wrong because it was unearned to the point where he was remembering something he'd never learned in the first place. Like he was retrieving information he shouldn't be able to access.
A week of seven days. Made sense, was logical. Like the way humans on earth measured their years, but not the same. Gryan told the nineteenth of Shadebloom, Year 700. The day was numbered in a named month. That was how the calendar should work.
And then, while he concentrated on it, while he tried to work out the complete pattern, more information came to light. Not through the process of reasoning and deduction. Just popping into his mind, as if it had always been there.
Thirteen months. Twenty-eight days each. The math occurred by itself, three hundred and sixty-four days a year, one day short of the Sun's orbit around the planet but close enough to indicate similar planetary rhythms.
Then the names of the months appeared, unbidden: Firstbloom, Shadebloom, and a list he didn't understand but knew he should, somewhere in the corner of his mind that was housing this echo of knowledge.
This was not Elias Reed's knowledge. This was Alucent Luci's knowledge. This was information the original occupant of that flesh knew in such a way that he had left a mark upon it, a pattern that the new mind occupying the flesh could tap into without any apparent comprehension of how or why.
He was a stranger in his own flesh. And his flesh had secrets. Secrets in the form of memories that weren't his but were somehow accessible to him, residing in the layers of neurons and synapses pertaining to a previous owner in some way.
The discovery was chillier than the predawn air seeping into the forest. More unnerving than the Worm-like creatures, the drug-addled crowd, and the innkeeper's benign smile combined. Those things were externals. This was an internal threat. This was a dysfunction in the essence of his presence in the world.
He tucked the information away. Made a note of it. Filed it in his mind to be analyzed later, when he had the time and the head space to properly consider what it meant. For now, they had other pressing issues to concern themselves with. Like the fact that they were currently in a forest hollow with scant supplies, and being pursued by a parasite species that devoured memories, whose trails led to people who preached soul-sucking plagues for reasons he didn't even begin to understand.
The adrenaline was all out of his system now. Instead, he was left with a deep-seated fatigue that made every action heavier, slower, and harder than it should be. His thumb was still sore from pricking it with the tip of the Runequill to draw the Bloodmark symbols. It was a ghost pain, one he shouldn't be feeling anymore but apparently finds a way to anyway, thanks to his own psyche clinging to the memories he'd made a weapon out of.
Using his own guilt and fear as bait. Laying the memories of the young guard and Mira and his failures in the stones, broadcasting them to predators through the signals of their presence. The echo of that was what lingered, a dull ache in his mind that made thinking an effort, like pushing through mud.
Gryan finally said something again, ending another long period of silence. His voice was hoarse, distant, as if he was speaking from a thousand miles away while standing only a few meters in front of the witnesses. "They tried out their new pressure methods on prisoners in the Iron Conclave. Said it was for the best interests of the Vale. For the advancement of the Vale." His gaze was fixed again, both his hands in focus, but clearly viewing nothing of flesh and bone and metal. "A man's bones making their way to dust through a thousand atmospheres of pressure? You're not supposed to be able to forget that noise. You're not supposed to be able to bury it in your head."
The words suspended in the air, heavy with the weight of terror. This was the memory the Worm-like creature had taken and then given back through the breaking of the sound glyph that interrupted its feeding off Alucent's life source. This was the pain Gryan had been living with, the agony that ate at his soul until the parasite consumed it, leaving only functional emptiness behind.
And now it was back. Raw. Fresh. Like it had happened yesterday, and not years ago when the accident occurred, taking his arm.
"That's why you left the Conclave," Alucent said quietly. Not a question. Just putting the puzzle pieces together, realizing why Gryan was here instead of staying in Iron Vale with the other engineers and mechanics who put a premium on accuracy and advancement above the value of human life.
"That's why I left," Gryan nodded in confirmation. His face was clenched, his mechanical arm cycling his fingers through a rhythmic pattern.
"I mean, I couldn't keep putting together systems for people who would go and use them in this way."
Raya was watching both of them with an expression that was either sympathy or impatience. It was hard to tell in the faint light and behind the mask of professionalism. "Memory can wait," she said finally, with enough edge to cut through the introspection. "Water can't. We have a lead. Those Steamwagon tracks. We need a plan."
She was right, of course. They absolutely couldn't afford to be stuck in their heads right now when they were low on supplies and a mystery to solve. All the deeply philosophical issues relating to pilfered memories and ghost know-how and the rest of the profoundly life-threatening issues could be dealt with another time when they weren't putting a high priority on avoiding dehydration and discovery by whoever was handing out the Glowrose tea.
The light of the morning was beginning to filter through the canopy layers, the odd pre-dawn light that made everything flat and unreal. The cyan purple light of the moon was fading to allow more normal light to filter through, light that should be comforting but wasn't. Light meant that they could be seen, and visibility meant that they could be tracked.
They stood up, finally, and Alucent winced through each movement of his muscles, his legs working to cramp up in protest of standing upright. The pack weighed much heavier in his possession now, his body realizing the amount he was carrying and taking issue with it.
They made their way back to the trade road, careful to note any signs of an ambush or pursuit. The forest is quiet around them now. No oppressive silence, the way it was yesterday, but the normal quiet of early morning. The singing of the birds has changed from the absence of song they heard closer to the inn, to the chirping of the birds surrounding them now. Like the corruption in the inn is an area of influence that lessens the farther away you get from its center.
Steamwagon paths were easily visible in the light of day: deep gashes in the hard earth, marked out where a large vehicle had passed. And relatively new, too - the last day or two, judging from how sharp the edges were and how little erosion from the rain.
Gryan knelt beside the tracks, his mechanical fingers outlining the pattern. "Industrial model. Very likely Iron Vale manufacture, judging by the tread pattern. Could handle a load of at least two tons, and possibly much heavier than that. Whatever it was carrying, it was a heavy haul."
"Or they might be hauling a lot of it," Raya said. She was surveying the road ahead, her hand on the hilt of Weaveblade in its constant state of readiness. "The tracks head in an easterly direction. Deeper into the Vale than Eryndral."
"So what do we do?" Gryan stood up, looking at both of them. "Follow them or report back?"
The ensuing discussion was contentious, the differing outlooks and values of the two people meeting in the early morning hours.
Alucent made his point first, and it was a very practical and mission-oriented one. "Our objective was to investigate a local disturbance in Verdant Hollow. We accomplished that. We know there are irregularities, we know there are unknown parasitic species, and we know there is an operation in play. This is the very type of intelligence that Sir Vorn requires. We should report in and share our intelligence and leave the decision to him and proper supporting assets."
"Report what?" Gryan's voice was sharpened to a point Alucent had never heard before. "That we retreated from an inn full of drugged civilians? That we found a trail and chose to go home instead of investigating? Those trails lead to the people who possibly gave the shepherd and his flock the means to poison an entire room full of victims. They are distributing 'memory eating' parasites across the Vale, preparing feeding stations and nurturing this plague intentionally. I'm not going to report that."
"This has nothing to do with what you're letting go," Raya said. "It has to do with tactical reality. We're three people with limited supplies and one possible weapon that might work. If we take that trail and find a large operation, we're not prepared to deal with it."
"Then we observe and report from there," Gryan retorted. "Get close enough to assess what we're up against, to get hard intelligence on size and structure, and then fall back. To simply walk off unaware of what this might mean is to abandon our duty."
They both looked at Alucent. Waiting for Alucent to make the call. Because apparently, he, who was neither the nominal leader nor the most qualified of them, found himself the crucial vote in their miniature coalition.
Alucent considered this too. Alucent weighed the risks against the reward. Alucent knew they only had perhaps two days of water left. The trails were fresh. Taking the trails meant making a commitment to a deeper insertion into what was possibly an unfriendly area. Alucent knew Gryan was right, however, in that Sir Vorn would need hard intelligence and not simply a notice that something negative was afoot in some undetermined area.
"We track the trails," Alucent said finally. "Reconnaissance only," he said. "We locate the source, and then we observe it from a distance and report back with what information we can gather. Then Sir Vorn can make an informed decision of what he wants to do in response to it."
Raya didn't look pleased with the decision, but she nodded her head in acceptance. This was the mark of a professional in accepting a decision she didn't agree with but was willing to stick to.
Gryan looked more serious than before but satisfied, as if he'd taken what he wanted but knew how much it meant.
They began to walk, following the deep ruts along the trade road to the east. The morning wore on, the temperature increasing slightly as the sun rose higher in the sky. The woods surrounding them should have been safer with the light, less oppressive and less threatening. Something was wrong with the trees, however.
The trunks of the Ironvine trees were still glowing with their bioluminescence, but the color was different. Instead of the soft, pulsating blue lights, the trees now emitted a sickly purple glow that was irregular and rapid, almost crazed. As if the trees were ill.
As if the infection that was centered in the area of the inn was spreading through the forest itself.
Other signs of irregularities passed by as they walked. The stream of water that flowed through the area was filled with a liquid that was ever so slightly luminescent, emitting a light with a similar unhealthy purple quality to the air and plants above.
The Beautification effect that Sir Vorn warned of was more than simply a color boost to the area. It was a complete metamorphosis of the environment into a new and alien form.
Then they discovered the deer.
It was lying by the side of the road, seemingly ten meters ahead of them. At first, Alucent believed that it was simply sleeping or taking a rest because it seemed to be in a natural and almost peaceful posture.
The deer was unharmed. No wounds, no signs of attack or disease or injury in any form. But its skin was altered. Where there should have been brown fur, there was instead a shimmering matrix of blue crystal, as if the flesh of the deer had been supplanted by minerals that refracted the light into impossible ways.
Gryan examined it warily, crouching low to peer more clearly at the thing. "It's completely crystallized. The entire surface area. But look." He indicated the pattern that existed within the crystal structure, the worm-like things that swam through the clear matrix.
"You see those things? Inside the crystal. It's like they ate the prey from the inside out and what's left is this." Alucent gaped at the deer, his analytical mind struggling to make sense of what he was viewing and his thoughts were refusing to reconcile the information into a cohesive pattern.
The Worm-like creatures sustained their existence off of emotions and memories.
But what he was witnessing was an exchange of biology: the conversion of flesh into crystals with the parasites encased in them, like bugs in amber.
"The corruption is spreading," Raya whispered. "It's not just contained in the inn. Whatever is happening, it's happening in the whole area. The trees, the water, the creatures. All of it." They pressed onward, following the tracks, but the gravity of what they'd uncovered fell across them like a pall.
This was no longer simply an investigation into local irregularities but proof of a process that was systematically altering the Vale in a way that was fundamental in its nature. The beautiful, terrible decay was present everywhere now.
The bark of the trees was now crystal. The flowers shimmered with light from within but were hard to the touch, with petals of colored glass. The earth itself seemed altered in some way, the soil having a subtle shine to it, as if minerals were seeping into the organic matter.
The world was metastasizing. Beauty devouring itself, becoming a thing that resembled life but was, in fact, quite dead.
The crystalline plague sweeping through the forest, and somewhere down the line, the people who had bred and propagated it.
Alucent gazed at the Steamwagon tracks leading into this infected area and wondered what their find was at the end of the journey.
Just how large was the operation that needed this much material to be delivered into the midst of an expanding infection?
Just what manner of people sought to infect an entire area with a parasite that consumed memories and the crystals of infection?
They were going to find out. Whether they were ready for the answer or not.