Book 5, Chapter 11: The Dreaded Book
Etienne’s satchel contained a map and a book.
After calming down, then panicking anew, then getting my heart and breathing under control, the book fully out of the satchel and sitting on my lap, me staring at it, I reached for the dark brown leather cover, hesitated, closed my eyes, took the damn thing between my thumb and forefinger, and painfully, painfully, pulled it open.
Took a deep breath. Looked.
The writing was odd. Unrecognizable scribbles, like Arabic but more circular, with little flutters above or beside some of them, and they repeated. A language I didn’t know, then. I felt relief. Until they shifted – no, that’s not it, I shifted. The scribbles suddenly made sense and I could read them.
IN THIS JOURNAL I SHALL DOCUMENT THE STRANGE SYMBOLS CARVED ONTO PRINCESS CAYCE’S BACK. THE PROCESS ITSELF WAS
I looked up. Sighed. Of course, that’s where he’d start. Looked back at the page. The next few sentences described what Etienne pieced together of my torture. Not something I wanted to read. And not informative for me since, you know, I was there. I skimmed, reading the top of each paragraph, with each sentence twisting my gut a little, until I shuddered.
“Oh my god.”
“What is it?”
“Etienne measured the . . . he seriously measured the posts. The pieces of wood I was . . . goddamn it, Morry.”
“If this is too difficult for you, perhaps I can find where the description ends?”
“Please.” I passed him the book.
He held it in front of him, moved it away, then back. “What language is this?”
“I don’t know.”
“It’s not Volkandeer.”
“Oh.” I felt stupid. And wanted to ask, ‘Gosh, you mean we’re not speaking English?’ I’d never questioned it. Whatever language we were speaking, it was normal and natural for me. The books I’d read in Bechalle’s castle were easy enough to read. Yay, one more hidden power. But then I realized what it meant. “Morry!”
“Yes?”
“Uh, uhm, nothing. Can you pass me that back?”
“I’m surprised you can read this. Wizard’s writing, I guess.”
I took the book from him, thinking. The language, I’d spoken it well before meeting Bechalle. Looked at maps, read snippets. Why and how could I speak and read the languages of another world? Clearly not everything could be laid at Bechalle’s feet. Something else was going on with me that predated that monster’s machinations.
And I should have realized it. How many people awaken on a new world? In a new body? I’d initially thought it was a game. Hence, everyone was speaking my language. Little by little, that hypothesis faded away, though I couldn’t fully disprove it. Perhaps I was trapped in a game. But if I wasn’t, then it seemed that I was built for traveling between worlds. Or created to.
Yet if that was the case, and I came here on purpose, or was sent, why? Memories of my past life, all but vanished. It wouldn’t make sense to strip someone of their memories while also sending them to accomplish something important – and the task would have to be important if that someone was giving up their body, friends, family, and world. Perhaps the memory loss was unforeseen? Not that it mattered, now. For what purpose was I here?
As they say in the rabbit hole, curiouser and curiouser.
Now the book had my full attention. Etienne had unwittingly given me another clue to my existence. I flipped open a couple pages past where I stopped. And stopped again, “Oh my god. Gods.”
“What is it?”
“Etienne’s musing over what Bechalle was going to do with my blood. Those bowls of it he collected.”
“Ah. Make a soup?”
“That’s not very damn funny.”
“Perhaps give the blood to those possessed by the gods.”
“What?”
“People with spells.”
“Mages?”
“Not those kind. Where they shake and convulse. Blood of the executed is said to help their condition.”
“Epileptics? That’s repulsive. And stupid.”
“What would you recommend?”
“I don’t know, drugs that calm the neural system. Never mind. I can’t believe we’re talking about this. Bechalle wasn’t executing me, you know.”
“I apologize, Princess.”
“Ok, let’s see. He thinks it was to be used for another ritual. Drawing the pattern on my back on the floor or wall, to attempt a summoning. But he emphasizes that it’s just a guess. Or, here,” I pointed at the page, “as a kind of tattoo ink. That’s gross. Makes me wish I had blood parasites at the time. Uh, do I really have to read more of these speculations?”
“If it’s not giving you any information, I think you can ignore that part. Perhaps skip this entire chapter. Could you pass me the map?”
***
THE QUESTION THEN BECOMES, WAS THE PRINCESS GIVEN THE POWER OF A DEITY BECAUSE OF THE RITUAL OR IS SHE PERHAPS AN AVATAR AND THE LATE DUKE UNDERSTOOD THAT?
AN EXAMINATION OF THE OVERALL RUNE IS AMBIGUOUS IN THIS REGARDS. IT ITSELF APPEARS TO BE A COLLECTION OF SIGILS LINKED TOGETHER IN NOVEL PURPOSE. THE MULTIFACETED NATURE OF THE RUNE MAKES IT UNCLEAR HOW THESE INTERACT WITHOUT UNDERSTANDING THEIR EFFECT ON OTHER RUNES. IT IS THEREFORE DIFFICULT TO INTERPRET WITHOUT ADDITIONAL RESEARCH.
I SHALL ATTEMPT TO DESCRIBE THE VARIOUS PARTS OF THE WHOLE AND THEN SPECULATE AS TO THEIR FUNCTION.
THE SUMMONING SIGIL USED IS ANCIENT, CARRYING A DUAL MEANING. IT COULD EITHER SUMMON POWER OR THE USE OF POWER (I.E., AN AVATAR OR THE USE OF SUCH). HOWEVER, THE BINDING SIGIL SEEMS TO ENTAIL CEMENTING THE NEBULOUS ASPECT OF TIME, THOUGH THE LEEWARD, RATHER, INVOLVES DISTANCE.
CONCURRENTLY, THE SEVENTH SCRIPT IS A MIRROR OF THE SECOND, EACH COMPRISED OF FOUR MAJOR RUNES. I’VE IDENTIFIED TWO OF THESE (SEE PREVIOUS IMAGE), BUT THE FACT THAT THEY ARE IN MIRROR OPPOSITION IS UNUSUAL. THIS STRUCTURE IS ALMOST UNIVERSALLY AVOIDED IN HIGHER RITUALS AND . . .
I sighed and put the book down. Much of the book was devoted to an in-depth discussion of runes and their interactions, contradictions, and so on. And using terminology I didn’t understand the context of. Leeward of what? It was like reading snippets of speculative virology while not being a virologist.
Also, being written before Etienne visited the Mage’s Conclave, the book was largely conjecture. Interesting and all, but I had no way to evaluate his musings. And they had no direct application for me. It’s not like I could test his speculations as hypotheses – such would require cutting new runes into my back and measuring their effect – which would be all kinds of painful and wrong. If I even had the knife.
So, I was at a loss. His dying words for me were that I’d find answers at this temple in the north. I’d have to skip ahead and see what he mentions of that, but the sun was rising, the day moving on.
“Hey! Morry, I think we should get going.”
“You’ve finished reading the book?”
“No, but I’m not finding anything immediately helpful. It’s a bunch of speculation about, you know, whatever’s on my back.”
“That’s unfortunate. We can leave anytime.”
“Oh! You packed up the horses.”
“Yes. And read the map. I know where to take you, Princess.”
“That’s good. Good.” Or, the opposite of good. I needed the big man to get away from me, go be safe. “Perhaps you can explain it to me? You know, so you can return to Brundle and help him rebuild the army.”
“With the horses, I expect we’ll make better time. Come.”
Comments (0)
Please login or sign up to post a comment.